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Our Little Cossack Cousin 
in Siberia 





THE 

Little Cousin Series 


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THE HOUSES RUSHED MADLY FORWARD” ( See ])(lf)e HI) 




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Our Little 
Cossack Cousin 

in Siberia 


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By 

F. A. Postnikov 
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Illustrated by 

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Walter S. Rogers 

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Boston 

The Page Company 

MDCCCCXVI 


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Copyright , 1916, by 
The Page Company 

All rights reserved 


First Impression, November, 1916 





DEC -I 1916 


©CI.A445875 

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PREFACE 


The name Cossacks is given to a large part 
of the Russian population. These people are 
endowed with special privileges in return for 
specific military service. They are of different 
racial origin. There are ten separate voiskos, 
settled along the frontiers, those of the Don, 
Kuban, Terek, Astrakan, Ural, Orenburg, Si- 
berian, Semir-yechensk, Amur, and Ussuri. 
These differ in many respects, though with a 
similar military organization, the primary unit 
of which is the stanitsa or administrative vil- 
lage. 

The historical Cossacks are those of the Don 
and of the Dnieper Rivers in Russia, of whom 
it has been said that they were “ originally pas- 
sionate lovers of freedom who went forth to 


vi Preface 

find it in the wilderness.” The other Cossack 
divisions have been patterned after these by the 
Government. In the later sections the military 
spirit and the old Cossack traditions are care- 
fully fostered. 

Our book deals with the Ussuri Cossacks of 
Siberia, among whom Colonel Postnikov lived 
for many years, both as an officer and as a civil 
engineer. Although the story is written in the 
first person, it is in no sense an autobiography 
of the author, who was born in western Russia. 

Besides the country around Ussuri River, 
other sections of Siberia and other classes of 
people than the Cossacks are described inci- 
dentally. 

In the spelling of Russian names, an en- 
deavor has been made to give some idea of the 
actual pronunciation. 


The Editor. 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

Preface v 

I. Childhood Adventure i 

II. The First Deer of the Season . . 9 

III. The Booty Secured 17 

IV. A Big Catch and New Preparations 25 

V. “The Keta are Coming!” ... 35 

VI. Tiger! Tiger! . 42 

VII. The Night Alarm 52 

VIII. What Came from Attending a 

Skodka 57 

IX. The Hunt 67 

X. The Hunt — Continued .... 78 

XI. A Journey 86 

XII. A Garrison Town 97 

XIII. A Cossack Drill 105 

XIV. An Evening Visit . . . . . .118 

XV. Lent and Easter 129 



List of Illustrations 


“ The Horses Rushed Madly Forward ” (see 

page hi) Frontispiece v" 

“ Rode at Full Gallop Towards Us ” . . 5 ^ 

“ It Seemed to All of Us that they Could 

Never Reach Their Goal” .... 17 ^ 

The Great Beast . . . Jumped Over the 

Seven-foot Fence ” 54 v 


72 

118 




Alexis Pavlovitch 
Cossack Officers 


t 


Our Little Cossack Cousin 
in Siberia 


CHAPTER I 

CHILDHOOD ADVENTURE 

No, indeed, we don’t sleep through our Si- 
berian winters, nor do we coddle ourselves hang- 
ing around a fire, — not we Cossack 1 children. 

I was brought up in Eastern Siberia, in a Rus- 
sian settlement, on the Ussuri River, about fifty 
or sixty miles from where it joins the Amur. 
These settlements, you ought to know, were 
first established in the year 1857, in order to 
show the neighboring Manchus where Russian 
boundaries ended. The first were along the 
Amur, the later along the Ussuri River. No 

1 More properly Kozak or Kazak. 


2 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
doubt I owe much of my hardiness to the fact 
that my ancestors were among the involuntary 
pioneers sent here by our government . 1 

The source of the Ussuri is so far south that 
in the early spring there is always danger of 
a sudden breaking of the ice near its mouth 
and a consequent overflow. Now it is strange, 
but whenever we children were forbidden to 
go on the river something would tempt us to 
do it. 

“ You mustn’t go on the ice, Vanka,” fa- 
ther said to me one day as he left for Habar- 
ovsk, the nearest big city. 

I remembered the command all right until 
I met my chum Peter. He had a fine new sled 

1 In the spring of 1857, a regiment of three sotnias of 
Cossacks from the Transbaikal region were chosen by lot to 
settle with their families along the Amur River. Here they 
were divided into small villages or stanitsas (Cossack posts) 
about fifteen miles apart. The land was then for the most 
part a wilderness. There were forests to be cleared and 
marshes to be drained. In addition to doing this pioneer 
work the Cossacks had to defend the frontier toward China 
and provide postal communications between the Amur and 
the section from which they had come. — The Editor. 


Childhood Adventure 3 

to show me. It could go so swiftly that when 
he proposed that we cross to the Manchurian 
side, I said quite readily, “ Whee ! That’ll be 
grand; it isn’t far, and we can get back in no 
time ! ” 

Peter was on the sled which I was pulling, 
when we neared the low Chinese banks of the 
forbidden river. They were not as near as 
they had seemed. It had taken us a full half 
hour to cross, although we ran all the way, tak- 
ing turns on the sled. Suddenly Peter called 
out in a strange tone of voice : “ Stop, Vanka, 

stop! We must run. Look! Hongoose! ” 1 

I stopped so suddenly as almost to throw 
Peter off of the sled, and saw three Manchurians 
on the bank. They were standing near their 
horses who had huge bundles slung across their 
backs. 

“ Why,” I said slowly, resolved not to be 
frightened, “ those are merchants.” 

1 Members of organized bands of Chinese robbers. 


4 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

“ No,” said Peter, his lips trembling; “ they 
have rifles.” 

“Ye-es,” I reluctantly admitted; “but see 
their big bundles. They are certainly traders.” 

“ We had better run — ” began Peter stub- 
bornly, turning from me. 

“ You’re nothing but a baba (old woman),” 
I said contemptuously, a tingle of shame cov- 
ering my cheeks at the mere thought of me, 
a Cossack boy, running from a Chinaman. 
What would my father say, or my grandfather? 
Whoever heard of their doing such a thing? 
Yet, to my great surprise, my knees trembled 
as I recalled a scene of two years ago, when 
the brave Cossack Kontuska was found two 
miles from our village with his head smashed 
open, and it had been decided that he had been 
murdered by the Hongoose. Then, with a cer- 
tain feeling of being protected, there also 
flashed through my mind a picture of the re- 
venge expedition that the Cossacks had organ- 



u 


5 * 


RODE AT FULL GALLOP TOWARDS US 








Childhood Adventure 5 

ized, and even of the Chinese horse that had 
been brought later, as one of the spoils, to my 
own home. 

As we stood thus, one of the Manchus sud- 
denly threw the bundles from off his horse, 
and, leaping on it, rode at full gallop towards 
us. I caught my breath, y£t instinctively picked 
up a huge piece of ice, while Peter raised the 
sled into the air with both his hands. 

It was a regular Siberian winter morning, 
dry and clear. The sun was still in the east 
over the high Russian bank, so that it fell full 
on the approaching Chinaman, as we called 
him. The snow flew out like sparks of fire 
from under the hoofs of his horse, accompanied 
by a peculiar crunching sound. When a few 
hundred feet from us, the Manchurian changed 
the gallop to an easy trot. 

" How a ma? ” 1 he said, when he had come 
up, surveying us with a broad smile. 

1 Northern Chinese for “ Hello.” 


6 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

With a deep feeling of relief something 
made me recognize the fact that he had not 
come to slay but merely to satisfy his curios- 
ity. I noticed the round red circular spot on 
his breast as well as the red ball on his cap. 
These, I knew, indicated that he was a regu- 
lar army officer. With an awkward show of 
friendship he turned us round and round, touch- 
ing our clothes, looking inside of our hats, and 
then said something which puzzled us. But 
when he had twice repeated, “ Shango-shango,” 
I understood that it meant that all was right, 
but whether it related to our clothes or to us, 
I hadn’t any idea. 

To show that I wasn’t afraid, I shook my 
fist at him saying, “ You are bushango” 1 

He understood, and smiling good-naturedly 
said in broken Russian: “ No, no, me shango 
too.” Then, opening his fur coat and put- 
ting one hand under it, he pulled out 

1 Not good. 


some- 


Childhood Adventure 7 

thing wrapped in a small piece of rice paper. 
This he opened. It contained a few cookies 
smelling of peanut oil, and these he smilingly 
offered to us. 

I leaned heavily first on one foot, then on 
the other, while Peter looked sideways, unable 
to decide whether it would be proper to ac- 
cept such a gift from a Chinaman or not; but 
tempted by a desire to show it to our parents, 
we took it shyly. “ How interested mother 
will be,” I thought, quite forgetful of my dis- 
obedience. Mother, however, never got a 
glimpse of the treat; every crumb was eaten 
long before we got half way back. 

When I reached home, I found mother in a 
very nervous state of mind. Some one had 
spread the report of our trip across the bor- 
der, and in her anxiety she imagined all sorts 
of terrible things to be happening to us. 

No sooner did she see me than she put down 
my baby sister, who had fallen asleep in her 


8 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

arms, and embraced me. A moment after she 
still further relieved her wrought up feelings 
by giving me a sound whipping, and still later, 
after I had washed myself and had had my 
dinner, both she and my older sister listened 
with many questions to very minute particulars 
of our little adventure. 


CHAPTER II 


THE FIRST DEER OF THE SEASON 
It was April. Winter was over, but the 
sun had not yet had time to melt the ice in 
our part of the river when the alarm was given 
that the Ussuri had broken loose a hundred 
miles above us and was rushing toward our vil- 
lage at tremendous speed. 

This news was brought by an officer who 
had been sent to give orders that the river be 
dynamited at once to remove the ice blockade. 

I was awakened that night by a terrible noise 
resembling hundreds of guns shot in rapid 
succession. My first impression was that the 
officer and his assistants were blowing up the 
ice, but I soon learned differently. 

When I had dressed and come out, I could 
see that it was caused entirely by the breaking 


9 


10 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

of the ice. All the village, including babes in 
arms, were already on the banks. It was not 
light enough to see the whole picture, but in 
the half darkness the moving white field of 
ice blocks resembled now a herd of mysterious 
animals, fighting among themselves, jumping 
on one another, and roaring, as they rushed 
headlong toward the north, or j then again more 
like spirits driven from paradise, and making 
their way into the unknown with cries and wails, 
in desperate panic and fear. 

We stood there for two or three hours watch- 
ing the ice blocks, many of them three or four 
feet thick and hundreds of feet long, pushed 
out on the shore by their neighbors, to be in 
their turn broken by new masses of blocks. 
When the sun arose the picture instead of mys- 
terious became magnificent. As far as one 
could see there was a moving field of blocks 
of ice, gleaming in rainbow colors, apparently 
changing shapes at every moment. Those 


The First Deer of the Season n 


nearest to us rushed with the greatest velocity, 
the middle blocks moved more slowly, and those 
toward the low Chinese shore seemed merely 
a moving stretch of snow. 

I had just noted that the river which I was 
accustomed to see far below our high bank, 
now almost rose to its level, when I heard 
quick, excited exclamations around me: 
“Deer! Deer!” 

I turned to where the hands were pointing 
and saw a strange sight. Several of the small 
deer that we Siberians called koza, were sail- 
ing on a big block of ice in the middle of the 
stream. A moment after every person was 
in motion, even the women running home for 
rifles. I remained with only a few old men 
who muttered: “The fools! How could 
they get them so far away, even if they should 
happen to shoot them?” 

But the hunter instinct, or perhaps the strong 
desire to get this particular kind of food, made 


12 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

every one reject the apparent impossibility of 
getting the booty from this terrible roaring 
river, carrying everything so swiftly away. 

The animals approached nearer and nearer. 
We could see their occasional desperate efforts 
to jump from one block to another, always to 
return to the big block which quietly and ma- 
jestically flowed among hundreds of smaller 
ones, which pushed around it, now breaking 
their edges, now leaving a part of themselves 
on its surface. 

In a short time the deer were directly op- 
posite us. There were five of them, a big stag 
and four does. 

Suddenly there was a rapid succession of 
shots around me from the men who had re- 
turned. The stag fell, killed, I afterwards 
learned, by my uncle who had aimed at it as 
being the most precious. Two of the does also 
fell, but the two remaining started on a wild 
race for the Chinese shore. One of them was 


The First Deer of the Season 13 

obviously wounded, for after two or three slow 
bounds she was caught by the moving mass of 
ice and disappeared under the water. I fol- 
lowed the other with a certain amount of sym- 
pathy until it was nothing but a tiny dot, and 
then turned my attention to what was going on 
around me. 

There was great excitement. An old Cos- 
sack named Skorin, was trying to stop his nine- 
teen-year-old son and two others from the mad 
attempt to push a boat on to the stream, in or- 
der to go after the slain animals. These had 
been pushed gradually nearer us by the ice, and 
Young Skorin argued that it would be easy to 
get them. 

I noticed that this dispute was being listened 
to by our friend Che-un, a member of the Goldi 
tribe, one of the native Siberian races, who had 
lived near our village as far back as I could 
remember. He was regarded with consider- 
able kindly respect by the Cossacks as being the 


14 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

most experienced hunter and fisher among them. 
He had on, as usual, his winter costume which 
made him look like a bundle of fur. It con- 
sisted of a nicely made deerskin coat, deer- 
skin trousers and boots. His dark face, with 
its flat nose, its sparkling, black, almond-shaped 
eyes, was all attention. 

Old Skorin turned to him. “ Tell this mad- 
man,’’ he said, “ that it is certain death to 
try to get into the stream now.” 

Without giving him a chance to reply, Young 
Skorin burst out: “Say, Che-un, tell father 
how I crossed during last year’s flood.” 

The Goldi did not answer at once. Instead, 
he puffed two or three times through the long 
pipe which he always held in his mouth. Then, 
slowly pulling it out, he said brokenly, “ Were 
it a bear, I might go — but for deer — no.” 

“ Oh, come on,” said Young Skorin per- 
suasively. “ If you won’t, I’ll go with Vas- 
sili here. Come on, Vassili,” and, with a reck- 


The First Deer of the Season 15 

less laugh, and without paying further heed to 
the protests of his father, he made a bound 
to his boat which was lying among others on 
the snowy bank. 

All of these boats were of the light Goldi 
type, built from three very wide boards, one 
about two feet wide, at the bottom, the two 
others on the sides, and two small end boards, 
all well-seasoned, nailed, and caulked, bent to 
meet and generally raised at the bow. All the 
boards were well smeared over with tar. Such 
a boat can be easily carried by two men, or 
pushed along the snow or ice. At the same 
time its displacement is so great that five 
and sometimes six men can cross a stream in 
it. 

When the two young men had pushed the 
boat over the snow into the river, Young Skorin 
took his seat in it while Vassili ran for two 
landing forks, a gun, and one oar. When he 
returned, Che-un suddenly changed his mind 


16 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

and joined the daring youths. This gave great 
relief to all of the women, who were filled with 
anxiety as to the outcome of the boys’ crazy 


venture. 



IT SEEMED TO ALL OF US THAT THEY COULD NEVER REACH THEIR 


GOAL 





















CHAPTER III 


THE BOOTY SECURED 

The boat was soon on the river, partly on 
ice and partly in water, and the struggle to 
reach the big ice block on which the deer lay, 
began. We saw the hooks of the young men 
flying now to the left, now to the right of the 
boat. Sometimes one end of the boat, some- 
times the other, would be raised high into the 
air. Now and then, as the stream carried them 
further away, we could distinguish that it had 
become necessary for the youths to pull or 
push the boat across some ice barrier. As we 
strained our eyes watching them, it seemed to 
all of us that they could never reach their goal. 

Noontime came, and I heard my mother’s 
call to dinner. I was so hungry by that time, 
not having breakfasted, that I answered at 


1 7 


18 Our Little Cossack Cousin 


once despite my desire to see the end of the 
adventure. 

I had scarcely seated myself at the table when 
my father and Old Skorin entered. 

“ You must eat with us, Pavel Ivanovich,” 1 
said my father. “ You can’t go home. It’s 
too far. Besides, it’s a long time since we’ve 
had a chance to be together.” 

We all understood father’s kind intention of 
trying to keep the old man’s mind from dwelling 
too anxiously on his son’s uncertain fate. Be- 
sides, my older sister had just become engaged 
to Young Skorin and this drew our families 
closer together. 

Old Skorin stepped into the room with dig- 
nity, took off his fur cap, and walking to the 

1 In social converse in Russia, the given name of the per- 
son addressed and the given name of the person’s father are 
used together, instead of a title and the surname as with us. 
Thus, Mr. John Smith, the son of Mr. Karl Smith, would be 
addressed as John Karl-ovitch. — The Editor. 


The Booty Secured 19 

corner in which hung the ikon , 2 crossed him- 
self. Not until he had done this, did he sa- 
lute my mother with : “ Bread and salt, Anna 

Feodorovna,” this being the customary greet- 
ing when any one is invited for a meal. 

“ You are welcome, dear guest, Pavel Ivano- 
vitch,” was my mother’s hearty response. “ Take 
this seat,” and she pointed to the place of honor 
under the ikon and to the right of my father. 

“Where is Katia?” asked Skorin. 

At this question I looked around amazed to 
find that Katia was not in the room. I had never 
before known her to be absent at meal time. 

Mother answered with a trace of discontent 
in her voice : “ I don’t know. The breaking 

up of the ice seems to have upset the whole 
village. Run, Vanka, and find her.” 

I left my place at the table with great re- 

2 The picture of the Savior, the Virgin, or some saint. 
Used in the Russo-Greek Church and found in the home of 
every member of it. — The Editor. 


20 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

luctance, not daring to offer any protest in 
the presence of my father, whose military 
training made him insist on prompt obedience*. 

When I reached the river’s bank, I saw my 
sister among those yet there. She stood shad- 
ing her eyes, in order to still make out the 
now scarcely visible boat. Her face expressed 
a peculiar mixture of admiration and anxiety. 
I recalled that she had had a quarrel with 
Young Skorin the night before, which had 
probably led to the rash undertaking. Inex- 
perienced though I was in such matters, I felt 
that this venture had somehow resulted in her 
complete forgiveness. 

When she understood why I had come, her 
first question was, “ Is father already home? ” 
Learning that he was, she ran as fast as if 
her heels were on fire, so that I could scarcely 
keep up with her. 

When we reached home the talk turned to 
the appearance of the koza , my father saying 


The Booty Secured 21 

that it was a good omen, that we should have 
plenty of deer meat that season. 

These Siberian deer always move in a suc- 
cession of small herds, and are followed and 
preyed on not only by men but also by wolves 
and other animals. For this reason our cat- 
tle were always safe during their migration. 
At this time, too, we always had an abundance 
of deer meat three times a day. The skins 
were saved either to be immediately made into 
fur coats and caps or for future use. Often 
on account of the abundance of these skins 
many of them were sold to traders who now and 
then visited our part of the country. 

Every boy in our village learned all about 
the habits of the deer in childhood, not only 
from his relatives but also from the members 
of the neighboring Goldi tribes, or from Man- 
churians who use the growing antlers as an 
invigorating medicine, considering it almost as 
precious as ginseng, which is also found along 


22 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

the Ussuri River. Sometimes they paid as 
high as two or three hundred rubles 1 for a 
pair. I knew several Cossacks who made a 
fortune hunting deer. They were also profit- 
able to keep as pets, the horns of the male 
being cut off every summer, when just about to 
harden, and sold. 

We were just through dinner when a shout 
came that Young Skorin had been successful. 
We rushed out and met him bringing the big 
stag to our house. My mother and sister 
helped him skin it and cut it into four parts. 
Then I was sent around to spread the news 
that that evening there would be a big feast 
to which the whole village was asked, this to 
be followed by a dance for the young people. 

Toward evening the guests began to ar- 
rive, many of the men dressed in old uniforms, 
many others simply in belted, gayly embroid- 
ered red, blue, and gray blouses. The older 

1 A ruble is a Russian coin equal to about our half dollar. 


The Booty Secured 23 

people seated themselves around the table in our 
house, while the younger received their share 
of the feast informally at our nearest neigh- 
bor’s, greatly relieved at being free for a while 
from the supervision of their elders. 

The meal lasted a long time. There was 
first the traditional deer soup of the Cossack, 
then roast deer, and finally an unlimited amount 
of coarse rye bread, milk, and tea. Vodka, 
too, as an especial treat, was offered to the 
older people. 

When the table had been cleared and moved 
out of the way, the blind musician, Foma, with 
his fiddle under his arm, was led into a corner. 
The son of the head man of our village (the 
ataman), took his place next to him with a 
harmonica. The dancing began with the 
rather slow steps of “ Po Ulice Mastovoi ” 
(On the paved Street), and ended with the 
Cossack dance, “ Kazachok ” led by an old 
woman named Daria, and Old Skorin, fol- 


24 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

lowed by more and more active dancers, until 
it finally terminated in the dancing of the live- 
liest Cossack present, each newly invented stunt 
on his part producing an explosion of applause. 

During the dance the house was packed with 
people. The greatest excitement prevailed. 
Men sober enough in everyday life, seemed 
suddenly to give expression to something wild in 
their natures. By midnight every one present 
was so exhilarated that he was either dancing or 
beating time. Even Grand-dad Matvei, who 
was said to be a hundred years old, kept time 
with the music by shrugging his shoulders and 
striking his feet against the ground. 

All that evening my sister and Young Skorin 
were the center of attention, their engagement 
having been announced immediately after sup- 


per. 


CHAPTER IV 


A BIG CATCH AND NEW PREPARATIONS 
One evening, later in the spring, when our 
rivers were entirely free from ice, and the 
banks were covered with green grass and prim- 
roses, Peter came suddenly into our barnyard 
with: “Quick! Get your spearing fork! 
There’s fish in the grass.” 

Without a word, I made several leaps to 
the barn where my father kept his fishing im- 
plements, snatched a fork, and followed Peter 
in a race to the river. 

Just before we reached the bank, Peter 
grabbed hold of my hand. “ Be quiet,” he 
said, softly. “ Do you see anything? ” 

I looked on the slightly waving surface of 
the river and along the bank, but could see 
nothing out of the usual. 


25 


26 Our Little Cossack Cousin 


Peter let me gaze for a while and then point- 
ing to a small inlet formed by a curvature of 
the river, where the water was very shallow and 
gradually sloped toward the meadow, whis- 
pered: “ There !” 

My eyes followed the direction of the point- 
ing finger. The grass of the surrounding 
meadow was partially under water, only a few 
inches projecting above the level. Here some- 
thing attracted my attention. It looked like 
a brown comb moving gently back and forth. 
“ A fin,” I whispered, more to myself than to 
Peter. 

Hardly breathing, we stepped into the water 
which reached to our knees, and made our way 
toward the brown waving comb of the fish. I 
held the fork in readiness and tried to keep be- 
tween the fish and the river. 

When we were about three or four steps 
from the fish, it suddenly threw itself in our 
direction, and so swiftly that I had scarcely 


A Big Catch 27 

time to throw the spear. Then something 
struck me on the foot and I fell forward into 
the water. 

“ Hurry,” screamed Peter. “ Help me.” 

With my face in mud and water, I could not 
at first understand the situation. When I 
arose, however, and had wiped my eyes, I was 
mad with excitement and joy. The fish had 
not reached the stream but was on the sandy 
bank, half under water. Peter was pressing 
his whole body on it, trying to hold it down. 
It was a sazan , extremely big, weighing at least 
fifteen pounds, and it took us more than five 
minutes to subdue it and carry it to a dry spot. 
When this was done I let Peter hold the fish 
with his fork while I ran for a sack. In this 
we carried the fish home, immensely proud and 
boastful of our achievement. 

When father returned at night, he expressed 
surprise at the size of our catch, adding that 
he had heard that day that the keta were ex- 


28 Our Little Cossack Cousin 


pected soon. This produced more excitement, 
for next to bread the most important food of 
the Ussuri Cossack is fish, and particularly the 
keta , a kind of salmon. 

When the keta came from the sea at Nikol- 
aievsk, they are very fat but get thinner as they 
go up stream, it taking several weeks to make 
the journey from the mouth of the river to the 
source. The Cossacks have to be very active 
during the migration, for it lasts only a few 
days. 

But father had still other news for us which 
brought the excitement to a climax. He had 
asked the commander of my brother’s garri- 
son to permit Dimitri to return home to help 
with the keta fishing! 

The day following our big catch, all of the 
men of our village set to work patching nets, 
sharpening their spearing forks, repairing their 
boats, while the women cleaned and got ready 
all the different necessary vessels from barrels 


A Big Catch 29 

to frying pans. Father had brought as much 
salt from the town as possible, but it would 
only be sufficient for pickling a part of the fish; 
the rest would have to be smoked and dried. 

While all the village were thus engaged, two 
horsemen were seen approaching. They wore 
tall fur hats, had swords at their sides, and 
guns over their shoulders. Their yellow shoul- 
der straps and the broad yellow stripes on their 
wide trousers which were shoved into high 
boots, the silver inlaid handles of their nagai- 
kas (Cossack whips), all indicated that they 
belonged to one of the active divisions of the 
Ussuri Cossacks. 

Surprised exclamations of “ Mitya ! ” “ Phil- 
lip!” “Brother!” “Son!” were heard. I 
waved a red handkerchief at them, recognizing 
Dimitri’s companion as Phillip, a cousin of my 
chum Peter. When they reached the village, 
they leaped lightly from their horses and 
kissed and embraced all present, answering as 


30 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
they did so the questions and joshing remarks 
hurled at them. 

I learned that they had come on a two weeks’ 
leave of absence, and that even father had not 
expected them so soon. After the first greet- 
ing, he said reproachfully : “ There was no 

need for you to hurry so fast. You might 
have killed the horses. Why, it’s only yester- 
day that I saw you.” 

“ Don’t be grouchy, father,” said Dimitri. 
“ We walked half of the way. I am very well 
aware that a Cossack’s first duty is to his horse; 
his second to himself.” And as if to demon- 
strate this, he turned to where I was trying to 
climb into his saddle and said seriously: “ No, 
Vanka, don’t worry him now. He is too tired. 
Better loosen his saddle girths, take off his 
bridle, and lead him to the stable. Don’t for- 
get to put as much straw as possible under his 
feet. Don’t get on him, or I’ll never let you 
go near him.” 


A Big Catch 31 

Although discouraged in my expectation of 
a nice ride, I was nevertheless proud of my 
brother and his confidence, and led the horse 
to a shed which, as was usual in our village, 
consisted of three sides only, the fourth, to the 
South, being open. 

At that moment my mother came running 
up. She had not seen Dimitri for more than 
a year, and she hung herself on his neck, laugh- 
ing and weeping with joy. 

Then the interrupted *work was resumed. 
Dimitri and Phillip left us to change their 
clothes, but soon returned and joined heartily 
in our preparations. 

Part of the men now waded out into an 
arm of the river until the water reached to 
their breast. Through this arm the fish usu- 
ally made their way. Here two fences, sep- 
arated by a space of about two hundred feet, 
were to be built, one to the Russian bank, the 
opposite one from the water to an island in 


32 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

the river. First, poles three or four inches 
thick, were thrust into the river bottom, about 
a foot apart, and then willow twigs interwoven 
between. The fences were then braced from 
behind with posts tied with willow ropes. 

When these were finished and the men had 
come back to shore, a big fire was kindled. 
Standing around it, they took off their wet 
clothes and hung them on nearby bushes or 
spread them out in the sun. 

Old Skorin then pulled a basket with eat- 
ables from under a stone, and also a bottle 
containing vodka (brandy), in order, he said, 
to keep them from catching cold while stand- 
ing around naked after their icy bath. Al- 
though their lips were blue and their teeth 
chattered, they laughed and joked as they took 
it. People don’t complain of things in our 
part of the world. 

A decidedly cold wind now began to blow 
and I was sent to several of the homes for 


A Big Catch 33 

what clothes I could get. Without, however, 
waiting for me to return, they began to spread 
the fish nets which were lying in big bundles 
on the banks. 

I soon came back with some dry things for 
the oldest in the party. For Skorin, in addi- 
tion to an old army overcoat, I had a pair of 
long socks made of heavy wool by his wife. 
She had pressed them into my hand at the last 
moment, bidding me to be sure to see that her 
husband put them on. 

Skorin received these with a show of scorn, 
mingled, however, with a satisfaction that he 
could not disguise. “ My wife,” he said, “ is 
always worrying about me. If we Cossacks 
gave in to our wives, we’d all be very tender- 
footed.” But I saw that he pulled on the 
socks. 

Having performed my commission, I turned 
to where about four hundred feet of netting 
was already hanging on seven foot high poles. 


34 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

Men were at work on this, tying up broken 
loops and fixing weights to the lower parts. 
Long ropes were fastened to the ends. The 
work was done with feverish haste. When 
my brother and Phillip came running up, an- 
other bundle of nets of about the same size 
was unrolled, and the two set to work patch- 
ing it, putting all the skill that they possessed 
into the work. When the call for dinner came 
at noon, the netting was ready for use. 

Now a difference of opinion arose, some 
wishing to continue until all the nets were fin- 
ished, others contending that after a hearty 
meal they could complete the work more 
quickly. Skorin who despite his age, was the 
inspiration of all present, sided with those who 
wished to remain, but when some one called his 
attention to the fact that Dimitri and Philip had 
not breakfasted, he surrendered, and we all 
hurried to our homes. 


CHAPTER V 
“the keta are coming!” 

Certain that there would be something extra 
for dinner on my brother’s account, I ran on 
ahead, and as I ran I tried to guess what it 
would be. We would have, of course, the 
usual borsch (cabbage soup with plenty of 
meat, potatoes, and onions, and sometimes the 
addition of sour cream), buckwheat kasha 
(porridge), and the inevitable tea and rye 
bread. But what else? As soon as I burst 
into the room, I knew, for mother was just 
taking a big fish pie out of the whitewashed 
oven in the brick fireplace. 

The others came in as I was clapping my 
hands with delight, and we all took our seats 
around the big table. We had hardly finished 
eating our borsch to which, following the ex- 


35 


36 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

ample of my father, I added two big spoon- 
fuls of buckwheat porridge, when the door 
opened and Sonya, Peter’s sister, came in so 
nearly out of breath that she could hardly 
ejaculate the words — “The keta are com- 
ing!” 

She might have said the enemy, so suddenly 
did we all spring to our feet and rush out 
shouting the news to all whose homes we 
passed. A few minutes after, our boats were 
in the water with the nets, and the men at 
their assigned places with fishing hooks, hatch- 
ets, and ropes. The women were not behind- 
hand in coming, not merely to gaze at the 
river but to bring necessary utensils. 

I had no especial duty assigned me, and so 
in trying to help everybody, I managed to be 
a nuisance. It was not long before I received 
a kick out of the way from my father, who 
was assisting Feodor carry a heavy net. This 
sent me several feet down the bank. 


“The Keta Are Coming! 5 ’ 37 

Nothing disheartened, I grabbed hold of a 
boat which my brother and Young Skorin were 
pushing into the water. But they worked so 
rapidly that I lost my balance and fell flat 
into the edge of the river. My brother caught 
me up by the neck, shook me angrily, and tum- 
bling me up on the bank growled : “ Stop 

putting yourself where you’re not wanted.” 

I hardly knew what to make of such un- 
usual treatment from Mitya. To hide the 
tears which were ready to fall, I ran as fast 
as I could to the top of the bank and got be- 
hind some trees from which I had a good view 
of the entire river. 

Here I soon forgot how sore I felt. The 
fresh damp air was filled with the aromatic 
fragrance of opening buds and leaves. For a 
mile along the Russian bank, the river shone 
mirror-like under the bright rays of the Spring 
sun. Its surface was slightly waved by the 
wind, except in one place where there was a pe- 


38 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

culiar disturbance. Sharp waves and splashes 
and two rows of foam indicated the approach- 
ing advance guard of the keta. 

Two boats were rowing desperately to their 
appointed places on both sides of the opening 
between the two fences. Two other boats had 
already gone to watch lest the fish should turn 
into some other arm. Suddenly the men in 
these began to fire shots, no doubt to prevent 
the fish from turning. Their maneuver evi- 
dently succeeded, for the fish headed directly 
to where the other party awaited them. 

As they came nearer and nearer I grew so 
excited that I leaped high into the air and 
yelled wildly. 

Although it was not a big school of fish, it 
covered more than fryo hundred feet. As it 
came to the fences there was a great disturb- 
ance, heads and tails and even the entire body 
appearing far out of the water. A few indi- 
vidual fish jumped as high as the very top of 


“ The Keta Are Coming!” 39 

the fence. A very large number became en- 
tangled in the spread nets. 

Because of the number of fish, it became dif- 
ficult to get the water end of the net back to 
land, and, for a while, it looked as if the fish 
would escape, nets and all. The hard work 
of the men in the boats seemed to accomplish 
little. Finally Old Skorin, alone in his light 
baidarra , 1 separated himself from the others, 
and pulled behind him the end of the rope, 
while the others exerted themselves to resist 
the pressure of the fish. When he reached the 
bank, he wound the rope around some trees 
which he used as a block, until he made a suf- 
ficiently strong anchor for the party behind. 
Two or three men came to his assistance, and 
gradually the far end of the net, filled with an 
enormously large number of fish, was brought 
on the bank. 

1 A boat for one man, made of bark and the skin of fish 
over a wood skeleton. 


40 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

A little behind this net was another net to 
get the fish that escaped the first. Many fish, 
however, went under both and were soon out 
of sight. 

The whole village now gathered with ves- 
sels and sacks, knives and hatchets. The fish 
were picked up, killed, and carried to impro- 
vised tables, where a row of women and two 
strong men started to work at cleaning, salt- 
ing, and packing them in barrels. The work 
was continued until the salt gave out late at 
night. The remainder were left for drying 
and smoking on the morrow. All of the work 
was done in common; later the fish were di- 
vided among the different families according 
to the number of workers in each. 

The next morning everything looked gloomy 
and muddy, for there had been a shower dur- 
ing the night, and it was still drizzling. Hap- 
pening to recall that the year before at this 
fish season the weather had been dry, I ven- 


“ The Keta Are Coming! ” 41 

tured to ask: “ Isn’t it foolish to try to dry 
fish in such wet weather? They’ll get wetter 
than they now are.” 

To my chagrin and astonishment, all began to 
laugh, and Young Skorin remarked: “They 
are rather used to being pretty wet, I fancy.” 

As I turned from the laughing crowd, who, 
as soon as they had cleaned some of the fish, 
hung them on ropes stretched in several rows 
along the bank, I noticed that “ Granny ” 
Daria and her adopted son were watching the 
workers. I soon saw that they were not there 
merely out of curiosity but to pick up the spawn 
which they washed in a big tank and piled in 
a barrel. Later I was told that Daria had 
been the first in the village to prepare caviar 
for sale. That was the year before, when she 
made enough money to purchase a cow in the 
city. We all envied her this cow, for in com- 
parison with our undeveloped Manchurian 
cows she gave an enormous amount of milk. 


CHAPTER VI 

TIGER ! TIGER ! 

I must have been at least a year older when 
father came in one evening, his face full of 
serious concern. I had just been uttering pe- 
culiar yells to amuse my little sister, but at 
once became silent, anxious for him to speak. 
As soon as he had warmed his hands a little 
at the fire, he turned to me with, “You will 
have to go after the cattle, Vanka, and try to 
get them into the yard.” Then, turning to 
my mother, he added, “ A tiger 1 was seen in 
the valley last night.” Mother began to make 
some timid objections to my going out because 
of the falling snow, but father interrupted 
with: “Trifles! He’s a Cossack!” 

1 The Siberian tiger, one of the finest in the world, is 
found only in the Eastern part of the country. — The Editor. 


42 


Tiger! Tiger! 43 

My mother knew too well my father’s con- 
viction that the same discipline that prevailed 
in the camp should be found in the home, to 
say more. 

I confess that I did not like the task as- 
signed me. As I reluctantly arose, my mother, 
trying not to betray her emotions, bade me put 
my fur coat over my blouse. When I had 
done so, she herself tied a heavy muffler over 
my cap, and then turning from me, pretended 
to be absorbed in getting supper. The anx- 
ious look in her eyes, however, had not es- 
caped me. 

When I stepped out of doors, I could not 
make out anything at first. The wind was 
colder and blowing stronger than in the morn- 
ing, and I rubbed my nose, remembering the 
half frozen one with which I had returned from 
a trip on the river two weeks before, resulting 
in a swollen face and a disagreeable daily 
greasing with goose fat. 


44 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

After a few minutes I made out the fences, 
and then the road, down which I stumbled, hop- 
ing to find our cattle clustered as usual, about 
a big haystack, half a mile from the village. 

The sky, as is customary in Eastern Siberia, 
was clear and full of stars. The dazzling 
whiteness around gleamed as if covered with 
thousands of jewels. More than once a clump 
of bushes made me sure that the tiger was a 
dozen steps before me. 

Suddenly a sinister sound broke the still- 
ness. I half turned to run, when it was re- 
peated, and I recognized that it was only a 
cracking of the ice in the river below me, so 
I continued on, relieved. Snow circles now 
began to form around my muffled face and the 
deeper snow creaked under my feet. Grad- 
ually, however, all sense of fear left me for 
a while. The spirit of adventure, the thought 
of accomplishing so difficult a commission, filled 
my heart with the determination to do it as 


Tiger! Tiger! 45 

well as though I were a full grown man. 

I had gone less than a quarter of a mile 
when I began to make out several dark spots 
approaching along the trail. Soon I heard 
the bleating of a calf, who, evidently trying 
to follow its mother, was discontented that 
more attention was not paid to it. 

“ They have scented the tiger,” I said to my- 
self, “ and are trying to get home.” 

For a moment I felt glad that I did not have 
to go further. Then it occurred to me that 
should the frightened animals unexpectedly see 
me, they might run away so that it would be 
impossible to find them again that night. 

Quickly stepping to one side, I crouched 
down next to a little hillock. I was a moment 
too late, for the cattle stopped and stood mo- 
tionless, gazing toward the spot where I lay. 
When they renewed their approach, their rapid 
trot had changed to a slow, cautious walk. It 
was fortunate that the wind was blowing in my 


46 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

direction, for they were soon in line with me. 
I scarcely breathed until they had passed, when 
I leaped up so quickly to follow that I again 
frightened them, and they started off on so 
mad a rush towards home that they were soon 
out of sight. 

It was not until then that it occurred to me 
that the tiger might have been following the 
cattle, that even now he was somewhere near 
where I had first caught a glimpse of them. 

Panic stricken, I grabbed up the folds of my 
heavy coat and ran along the trail like one in- 
sane. Once I stumbled, and it seemed to me 
that I felt the tiger’s breath on my neck, that 
his claws were outstretched to carry me so far 
away that even my mother could not find me. 

Then, with a hasty glance behind that saw 
nothing, I gave a leap forward and continued 
my run. At last I caught a glimpse of the 
light from our house, which was at one end of 
the village; and completely out of breath, I 


Tiger! Tiger! 47 

broke into the kitchen and sank to the floor. 

Mother, greatly alarmed, ran up to me, cry- 
ing out: “ For heaven’s sake, Vanka, what’s 
the matter? Are you hurt? Is the tiger — ” 

Gasping for breath, I answered weakly, 
“ Yes, tiger.” 

This produced a commotion. My older sis- 
ter began to cry; my mother caught up the baby 
from her warm bed on top of the oven and 
kissed her, while father with one leap took his 
rifle from the hook and put on his ammunition 
belt. Then, taking me by the shoulder, he de- 
manded: “Where was the tiger?” 

I muttered something so unintelligible that 
his face cleared somewhat. He evidently per- 
ceived that I was more frightened than the sit- 
uation justified. To relieve the tensity of the 
atmosphere, he said in quite a natural tone, 
“You’re scared, Sonny, eh?” Then added 
briskly, “ Shame on you ! Take a lantern and 
follow me.” 


48 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

These words returned to me all my pres- 
ence of mind. I jumped up and feeling the ne- 
cessity of something being done, ran for the 
lantern, lit it, and followed my father who, en- 
veloped in his fur coat, was already out of 
doors. 

When my eyes accustomed themselves to the 
darkness, I saw that all of our cows were hud- 
dled together near the barn. We drove them 
to a corral surrounded by a seven-foot high 
fence made of tree trunks. 

When sure that all were in, father closed 
the gate, and turned to another corral in which 
were the horses tied to posts. At first I 
thought that he intended to drive them into 
the corral with the cows, but soon saw, to 
my great surprise, that he had not only un- 
tied them but let them go freely out of the 
gates. He even went to a shed reserved 
for a highly valued stallion and let him 
loose. 


Tiger! Tiger! 49 

“ Why did you do that? ” I ventured to ask 
him. 

“ I never heard yet of a loose horse being 
caught by a tiger,” he replied briefly. 

“ But the cattle — ” I began. 

“ They’re different,” he said, “ they haven’t 
the sense to know how to protect themselves. 
Besides, they couldn’t run fast enough, any- 
how.” 

As we moved about with our lanterns, our 
dogs and those of our neighbors kept up a con- 
tinuous barking. At last we turned toward the 
house, my father remarking as if to himself, 
“ The tiger is a good way off yet.” 

“ How can you tell? ” I asked timidly. 

“ Why,” he answered rather impatiently, 
“ don’t you hear how the dogs are barking? ” 

“ Yes,” I said. “ Much more than usual.” 

“ More than usual,” he repeated after me 
with a sarcastic emphasis. “You’ll see how 
they bark if a tiger ever ventures near our 


50 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

house. But come, it’s time to go in. I’m 
worn out. You go ahead, I’ll follow as soon 
as I’ve closed the gate.” 

I skipped to the house, feeling very brave 
with my father so near, and listened to the dif- 
ferent voices of the dogs as I did so. That 
of little Zushka, who belonged to our nearest 
neighbor, seemed ridiculous compared with that 
of our wolf-hound, Manjur. I whistled to 
Manjur who was about a hundred feet away. 
He stopped barking and ran up to me. Hardly 
had I begun to pat his head than he suddenly 
stiffened with attention, his hair bristling. 
Then with a ferocious bark such as I had never 
heard before, he disappeared into the dark- 
ness. 

The moon, which had risen, made the sur- 
roundings quite visible. Turning my head, I 
saw my father some distance away standing per- 
fectly still, his face turned toward the road, his 
rifle raised to his shoulder. 


Tiger! Tiger! 51 

I also stood still, scarcely breathing, until 
he set his rifle on the ground. As he did so 
he glanced at the house. Seeing me he called 
out roughly, “What are you doing here? 
Didn’t I tell you to go in? ” 

“ Is it a tiger? ” I said with teeth chattering. 

“I don’t know,” he answered; “but do as 
you’re bid.” 

I had to obey, and stepping in, soon cuddled 
myself under the heavy fur coat that served as 
my comforter. But though I lay down I could 
not fall asleep until my father came in and 
quietly but a little more slowly than usual, got 
ready for bed. 

I heard my mother whisper: “Did the 
tiger come?” and father’s answer: “I think 
so, but for some reason he went away.” 

“Will he return?” from my mother. 

“How do I know?” came impatiently from 
my tired father, and I fell asleep. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE NIGHT ALARM 

A few hours before dawn I was awakened 
by our dog barking angrily, yet with a peculiar 
note showing fear and disdain. I could also 
hear him leaping up and down in one spot near 
the very door of our house. Instead of an- 
swering barks, the neighboring dogs gave forth 
long and deep howls. There was such a noise 
and mooing of the cows in the corral that it 
seemed to me they must be trying to stamp or 
hook each other to death. 

Father and mother were already up, and I 
heard father’s deep command: “Get me a 
lantern.” 

As soon as the match was lit I saw him as 
he stood in his night shirt but with his fur hat 


52 


The Night Alarm 53 

on his head and a rifle in his hand. As soon 
as the lantern had been lit, he seized it and 
rushed to the door, putting on his overcoat as 
he ran. I arose hastily, put on my fur coat, 
grabbed the hatchet lying by the stove, and 
followed just as he cheered on the dog who ran 
before him to the corral, barking loudly. 

As I came near I saw my father thrust his 
rifle hastily between two fence posts. A sec- 
ond later came a short flash and the report of 
the gun. But my father’s curses showed that 
he had failed to hit the mark. At the same 
time, I heard a roar so terrible in its fury and 
strength and hate that I trembled so as to 
be hardly able to stand. Surely, I thought, a 
beast who can produce such a roar can swallow 
not only one but several cows at once. How 
brave my father seemed to me as, still mutter- 
ing, he reloaded his old gun with another car- 
tridge. But here something happened. The 
great beast holding a cow in his teeth as a cat 


54 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

does a mouse, jumped over the seven-foot fence 
of the corral and ran off into the darkness, pur- 
sued by our wolf hound. With what sounded 
like the Cossack war cry, father followed, while 
I, too, made my way some distance after, this 
distance gradually increasing on the snow cov- 
ered trail. 

We continued in this fashion for perhaps 
five minutes, when the dog changed his fero- 
cious barking to a pitiful whine and a new shot 
rang out into the air, followed by a short roar. 
I stopped in the middle of the road, unable to 
go a step further. 

I don’t know how long I stood there, but 
it was until I heard Manjur returning. I could 
just make him out but oh, in what a pitiful con- 
dition ! He was limping so badly that at times 
he simply dragged his body along the ground. 
Tears sprang to my eyes as I heard his cries 
and hurried toward him intending to pat him 
on the head. But when I tried to do so, my 


















































































































































































■■ 





























































































































The Night Alarm 55 

hand found itself covered with a warm sticky 
fluid which I knew to be blood. I could feel 
that his skin was torn, one ear gone, and his 
left front leg broken. 

Helping the dog all I could, I returned cry- 
ing to the house. As I stepped into the room 
covered with Manjur’s blood, my sister Katia 
gave a scream, while my mother with terror 
written in her eyes, exclaimed: “ What’s hap- 
pened to you? Where is your father? ” 

“ I don’t know,” I answered; “ but see what 
the frightful tiger did to poor Manjur.” 

Mother, somewhat relieved, but still trem- 
bling, now came up and helped me apply 
greased bandages to the torn ear and broken 
skin of the faithful dog. 

While we were doing this, father returned. 
Slowly he took off his hat, then his heavy coat, 
and in reply to my mother’s mute questioning 
look, said: “ I believe that I must have hit him 
for he dropped the cow, — yet he got away.” 


56 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

“ Is she alive? ” asked my mother with anx- 
iety. 

My father shook his head. “ Her neck is 
entirely broken,” he said, adding, “ I hardly 
think he’ll return to-night. To-morrow we’ll 
get him, for he’s probably hungry and will hang 
around.” Then he ordered me and my terri- 
fied sister to go to bed in order to get up early, 
and busied himself with poor Manjur. 

Long after the light was extinguished, I lay 
awake thinking of the tiger, my father’s cour- 
age, my mother’s anxiety, the wounded dog, 
and the dear cow. For some time, too, I could 
hear the low voices of my father and mother 
discussing the preparations for the morrow. 
One name, that of Tolochkin, was mentioned 
several times. I knew of this Tolochkin as a 
wonderful hunter of tigers. I had never seen 
him, however, for he lived more than forty 
miles away, and was peculiar in his habits, keep- 
ing much to himself. 


CHAPTER VIII 


WHAT CAME FROM ATTENDING A SKODKA 
The sun’s rays were already brightening the 
room when I awoke next morning. I jumped 
up from the bench that formed my bed at night 
and looked around. The lire was burning 
brightly in the big stove, mother and sister 
were clearing the table. Father was gone! 

Quick as a flash, it occurred to me why he was 
away. He had gone to a skodka, a gathering 
of the villagers who are always called together 
when there is a grave matter to be discussed. 
My lips trembled in my disappointment, for 
I had hoped to go with father. 

I dressed hastily, and then grabbing up my 
fur cap and coat started for the door. Mother 
saw me and called out, “ Where are you in 


57 


58 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
such a hurry to go, you foolish boy? You’re 
not washed nor combed, nor have you had a 
bite to eat.” 

“ I haven’t time,” I mumbled. “ I have to 
go to the skodka ” 

Mother, despite the seriousness of the situa- 
tion, burst out laughing. “ Do you think you 
are necessary,” she inquired, “ to deciding what 
ought to be done? ” Then changing her tone 
she said, “Hang up your shuba (overcoat), 
wash yourself, and breakfast, and then per- 
haps you can go.” 

My pleadings to depart at once were in vain, 
and I had to do her bidding. I forgot the dis- 
appointment somewhat, in* attacking with rel- 
ish the well-prepared buckwheat porridge, rye 
bread, and tea. The instant I was through, 
nothing could prevent me from running to the 
skodka. 

When I reached Fedoraev’s log house, which 
my mother had told me was the place of meet- 


Attending a Skodka 59 

ing, I found the front room filled with neigh- 
bors. Peter, who was at the door under the 
low-eaved portico, pointed out a tall, broad- 
shouldered man, with a heavy beard and bushy 
hair and brows, as the renowned Tolochkin. 
I gazed at him with all my might. “ How 
many tigers has he killed? ” I asked Peter in a 
whisper. 

“Forty!” came the answer. “And you 
ought to see the bear and deer skins which I 
saw in his yard the latter part of January.” 

I turned to the man again. I had been told 
that he was about fifty years of age, but he 
looked about ten or fifteen years younger. I 
noticed that he did not say much except to re- 
ply sharply to suggestions and arguments. 

“ Why won’t you come with us, Ivan Step- 
anovitch?” I heard the village ataman , the 
head man of our village, say to him in a slow, 
persuasive voice. “ We need you to show our 
youths how to hunt tigers. They’ve got to 


60 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

learn. We lost five cows and a dozen sheep 
last year, and this one rascal alone can ruin us. 
We’ll give you half the price of the skin.” 

“ I don’t care for the company, thank you; 
I prefer to hunt tigers single-handed.” He 
paused and added with a peculiar sarcasm, 
“ I’m really not needed.” Here he arose and 
left abruptly. 

For several minutes after his departure, no 
one spoke. Then I heard my father’s voice: 
“ Since he doesn’t want to come, let him stay 
away. We’re no children to need help. How 
many rifles can we count on for to-morrow?” 

There came a chorus of “ I,” “ I’m with 
you,” “ Count on me,” and then quite involun- 
tarily, I found myself exclaiming loudly: “ I’ll 
go.” 

To my surprise everybody found something 
amusing just then, for there was a resounding 
laugh. A man near the door faced me with, 
“ Where is your rifle? ” 


Attending a Skodka 61 

I looked straight into his eyes and answered 
earnestly, “ Last year my unde promised to 
give me one of his shotguns.” 

Again there came a new and stronger ex- 
plosion of laughter. What was the matter? 
Were they laughing at me? 

My uncle came to my rescue. “ Brave boy,” 
he said, patting me on the shoulder. “ I’ll 
take you if your father consents, and you shall 
have a rifle instead of a shotgun. We need 
some one to see to our horses.” 

Then the meeting began to discuss plans. 
It was decided that about two hours after mid- 
night all who were going were to meet out- 
side of the village at the crossing of the road 
to Bear Valley. Only two dogs, wolf hounds 
owned by Laddeef, were to be taken. 

When I returned home, I said nothing to 
my mother of my share in the skodka , but when 
shortly after midnight I heard my father’s 
heavy steps go out to feed the horses, I arose 


62 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

quietly and dressed, not forgetting my fur over- 
coat and cap and my warm felt boots. When 
my father returned, his beard white with frost 
and snow on his deerskin boots, he looked at 
me with a mingling of surprise and satisfac- 
tion and exclaimed: “You up! What’s the 
matter? ” 

“ You seemed willing that I should go on the 
hunt,” I stammered, fearful of a refusal at 
the last moment. 

“ Seemed willing,” my father repeated with 
a slight smile. 

Here my mother who was now up, broke in 
quite excitedly: “You are surely not going 
to be so crazy as to let Vanka go.” 

That saved me. Father always disliked any 
interference, and now, in addition, mother’s 
tone angered him. 

“ Father,” I begged, before he could speak, 
“ mother thinks I’m a baby. She doesn’t un- 
derstand that I’m to be raised like a Cossack 


Attending a Skodka 63 

and not like a lamb. Unde will take care of 
me.” 

My father who was frowning deeply, seemed 
to be turning over something in his mind. At 
last, without looking at me, he said, “ It’ll do 
you good. If your uncle will take charge of 
you, — go.” 

I didn’t give my mother a chance to utter a 
word but flew out of the door like a bullet, for- 
getting even to close the door after me, a negli- 
gence usually punished in our village by a beat- 
ing. 

I did not lessen my speed until I found my- 
self at my uncle’s felt-padded door. Turning 
the knob (it was not customary to lock doors 
or to knock in our village), I walked in. 
Uncle was still in bed and at first could not un- 
derstand my presence. When he did, he 
jumped to his feet with “ You rascal, you 
caught me this time, all right! Take any rifle 
you want.” 


64 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

He pointed to several antlers on the wall on 
which hung an array of rifles and daggers. 
While I tried to decide on the rifle, he washed 
and dressed, made a fire and began to prepare 
pancakes and tea. Having decided what gun 
I wanted, I helped him by hammering odd- 
shaped lumps of sugar from a big cone-shaped 
loaf. 

From time to time he looked smilingly at 
me and uttered unrelated ejaculations, from 
which I learned that he favored my going. 

We sat down, I thinking what a cheerful man 
he was. 

“ I guess you haven’t breakfasted,” he said, 
filling my plate. “ Your mother probably gave 
you a spanking instead of something to eat.” 

I looked up at him in surprise. How could 
he know that I hadn’t had anything to eat, and 
that my mother was angry. 

Having eaten heartily, we went out. I 
helped saddle his horse, and then together, 


Attending a Skodka 65 

laughing and talking, we hitched a mule to a 
sleigh into which we put hay and grain, a bag 
of tobacco, some bread, salt and meat, sugar 
and tea, an arkan (the Cossack’s lassoo), and 
some cartridges. I tried to follow his excellent 
method of packing things away neatly, for I 
knew that that was a part of the training of 
every Cossack. 

When we were ready to start, I in front, he 
a few steps behind, his pipe in his mouth, a 
smile on his lips, I could not help asking: 
“ Uncle, what are you smiling at? ” 

“ At you ! ” he answered unexpectedly. “ I 
guess you wouldn’t go home just now even for 
ten rubles.” 1 

“Why — ” I began and stopped, wondering 
again how he could read my thoughts. For it 
had just occurred to me that if, for any reason, 
I had to return, mother wouldn’t let me out 

1 Russian money. Ten rubles would equal about five dol- 
lars of our money. — The Editor. 


66 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
again, and perhaps even father — At this 
point, I hit the mule on whose back I was 
mounted, and we started off. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE HUNT 

When we reached the meeting-place, more 
than a dozen men on horseback were already 
there. Close to them stood a big shallow 
sleigh, the runners of which were a pair of 
birch poles. In it were ropes, a hatchet, food 
and forage. The driver of this was Daria, an 
old woman, whom I have already mentioned 
once or twice. I knew her story. The death 
of her husband and two children of typhoid 
fever had caused her to be despondent for sev- 
eral years. Then some one left a foundling at 
her door. She adopted the child, trying in 
every way to make a worthy man of him. To 
do this, she accepted all kinds of odd jobs, even 
such as were generally given to men. She 
67 


68 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
built fences, prepared the dead for burial, acted 
as midwife and nurse, delivered messages that 
nobody else cared to undertake, sometimes at 
night or during severe storms. She seemed to 
be afraid of nothing in the world and of no- 
body. 

When she first began to work in this way, 
she was pitied and helped; a little later, she 
was laughed at, and unpleasant names were 
applied to her; but finally, all came to have a 
deep respect for her and to rely on her help 
when trouble came. 

Long years of humiliation and struggle for 
a living, and the overcoming of all obstacles, 
had made her somewhat imperative in man- 
ner. She always expressed a decided opinion. 
Many people thought she really knew every- 
thing, and one or two superstitious persons 
even insinuated that she was a witch. When 
money or its equivalent in milk, eggs or flour 
was offered for her services, she accepted it 


The Hunt 69 

from those who could pay. From others she 
refused everything, giving instead something 
from her own small store. 

I thought her very odd, but liked her. 
Nevertheless, to-day, — well, to-day, it seemed 
to me that it was not fitting that I, a Cossack, 
should have to remain in the rear with a 
woman. 

Comforting myself with the knowledge that 
Daria was a very unusual woman, I bade her 
good morning. 

“ Good morning, you rascal,” she answered. 
“ What are you doing here? I know that your 
mother is worrying about you.” 

I did not think that this needed a reply. 
Jumping down from the mule but holding on 
to the reins, I joined a group of Cossacks who 
formed a circle in front of their horses. 

“ I guess we’re all here,” remarked Mikhai- 
lov, an active, talkative fellow who had lately 
returned from actual service with the rank of 


70 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

non-commissioned officer and with the unpopu- 
lar habit of constantly assuming leadership. 
He was probably the youngest present. 

“ Yes,” replied my father. “ And now we 
must follow some system. Perhaps we’d better 
cast lots to see who is to be our ataman , the 
leader of our band.” 

Old Skorin shook his head. “ What’s the 
use of that? ” he said. “ You know the coun- 
try, and you’ll suit us.” 

This did not please Mikhailov, who tried to 
put in an argument against there being any 
leader, but he was overruled, one of the men 
even turning to him with: “You, in particu- 
lar, need to be careful. Don’t be too anxious 
to shoot when you first catch sight of the tiger. 
Wait until you can aim directly at his head or 
heart. If you don’t, he’ll teach you something 
that you’ll never forget in this life.” 

“ Keep your counsel for your own use,” re- 
torted Mikhailov. “ I don’t need it.” 


The Hunt 


71 

Father here raised a warning hand and began 
to assign to each one present his place and 
duty. 

“ You, Simeon,” he said, turning to one, 
“ take the hounds along the low places of the 
valley, so as to get the tiger to move out of the 
bushes into the open spaces in the hills. You, 
Ivan and Feodor, take your places on the 
western side of the brush and keep close 
watch. Don’t let the beast escape into the for- 
est. And you, Mikhailov, and you, Foma, re- 
main as quiet as dead men on the left side of 
the brush, about one hundred feet apart. 
Mind, you’re to hide in the tall grass and not 
show yourselves. The tiger will probably try 
to run to Hog Valley. Don’t miss him. Be 
vigilant and brave.” 

Then he turned to me. “ As for you, 
Vanka, stay with Granny under the oak on yon- 
der hill. Tie the horses well and see that they 
don’t get frightened at either the tiger or the 


72 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
shots. See that you don’t stare open-mouthed 
at the sky and don’t go where you’re not 
wanted. If you leave your place — you’ll be 
sorry that the tiger didn’t get you. Do you 
understand? ” 

Something in my father’s voice cheered me. 
I felt that he knew what he was about and that 
I must obey. 

Then Mikhailov asked father, “ Where are 
you going? ” 

“ To the north of the valley, where I’ll take 
the rest and station them.” Turning to Simeon 
he added, “ Don’t let the hunt commence until 
you hear a shot from my rifle.” And, followed 
by several men, he left us. 

Before those remaining separated, I heard 
Mikhailov remark to his neighbor, “ Oh, he’s 
foxy. He’s selected the best place for him- 
self. We’ll not even catch a glimpse of the 
tiger.” 

Here Daria turned quickly to him with, 



ALEXIS PAVLOVITCH 









































































































































































































































The Hunt 


73 

“ You’ve returned from service as big a fool 
as when you left. Do your duty and you’ll find 
that Alexis Pavlovitch has done you justice.” 
Striking her horses with a whip, Daria started 
for the oak. I followed. 

When I had tied the horses, I tried to wait 
patiently for day-break. But oh, how long 
the hours seemed ! My fingers grew stiff with 
the frost. I tried to limber them up by blow- 
ing on them after I had taken off my mittens. 
Here Daria jumped to the ground, picked up 
a big handful of snow and rubbed her fingers 
with it. After wiping them she put them into 
the big sleeves of her fur coat, saying, “ Now 
even my old fingers are warm. Follow my ex- 
ample.” 

I bent down, my fingers so stiff that I could 
hardly grab up any snow. As I rubbed them, 
their flexibility gradually returned, and I dried 
them on the border of my fur coat. Then, 
still imitating my companion, I put them into my 


74 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

sleeves. They felt as warm as if they had just 
come out of boiling water. 

By the time the first glimmer of dawn ap- 
peared, I could already distinguish Mikhailov, 
who was lying half hidden in the dry grass, and 
a moment after, the dogs leaping around 
Simeon, who tried to keep them quiet while 
waiting for my father’s signal. 

Just before sunrise, the faint sound of a shot 
from down the valley came to us. Daria 
awakened from her doze. At the same time 
the hounds commenced to bark and move to- 
ward the dry snow-covered brush covering the 
bottom of the valley. At first Simeon held 
them tightly by a rope and they barked regu- 
larly and carelessly. Soon, however, there 
was a change. Anger and hate mingled with 
their bark. 

“ They have scented the tiger,” whispered 
Daria. 

I forgot everything, horses, mule, myself, 


The Hunt 


75 

as I stared fearfully into the snow-covered un- 
derbrush for a glimpse of the beast. At first 
I could see nothing, for the white covering 
grew blinding under the first rays of the sun. 
That and the yellow leaves of the low Mon- 
golian oaks hid Simeon, the hounds, and 
the tiger, making it seem a wall of mystery to 
me. 

I shivered for fear of the men as I recalled 
how easily this tiger had carried off our cow. 
It was not until later that I learned that even 
the most ferocious of wild creatures will avoid 
meeting man unless forced to do so. 

The sun rose just behind where I was sta- 
tioned, and gradually I could see two stationary 
black spots against the white of the hills oppo- 
site. They were Ivan and Feodor. 

On our side, Mikhailov and Foma showed 
more excitement. They even kept bobbing into 
sight, despite my father’s strict orders to re- 
main hidden. I also made out two Cossacks, 


76 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
mere specks, down in the valley. But nowhere 
could I find my father. 

Suddenly I noticed a movement in the brush 
some distance away. I thought it must be 
Simeon and his hounds, until an open space was 
reached and I distinctly saw an animal appar- 
ently the size of a mouse. Unable to control 
myself I cried: “ The tiger! ” 

Daria’s hand instantly covered my mouth. 
But Mikhailov had heard and signaled 
“ Where?” 

I tried to show him as best I could with- 
out turning my eyes from the tiny spot on the 
snow. It may have been that the tiger heard 
my loud exclamation; it may have been that 
something else attracted his attention; in any 
case he remained motionless for a few seconds. 
Then with one leap he disappeared again into 
the brush. 

Shortly after, Simeon and the two hounds 
appeared in the same spot. Then my excite- 


The Hunt 


77 

ment cannot be described as I saw the tiger run 
exactly toward where Mikhailov was concealed. 
From my elevated position all this was visible; 
Mikhailov, however, could not see how close 
the tiger was to him. 

In a very short time the beast had reached 
the eastern side. He appeared so unexpectedly 
before Mikhailov that the latter, instead of 
shooting, uttered a curse, and the tiger turned 
back. Here Mikhailov committed the grave 
error against which he had been warned. He 
shot in the direction that the tiger had gone and 
evidently hit without killing him. 

A terrible roar followed as the creature 
turned and jumped right on the man who had 
wounded him. 


CHAPTER X 


THE HUNT CONTINUED 

My heart gave a wild leap and I grabbed 
hold of the side of the sled for support. Then 
a great many things happened, but I recall them 
to the smallest detail. 

As the tiger’s roar rang out, all the horses 
tied to the trees and in my care broke their 
halters and rushed wildly away. Daria’s two 
horses attached to the sled, followed, leap- 
ing over all obstacles. Daria’s greatest efforts 
were powerless to even reduce their speed. I 
soon forgot all about them, however, so intent 
did I become on the picture before me. 

I saw Foma, who was nearest, make a few 
jumps toward him and then kneel and point 
his rifle at the beast who clung to Mikhailov. 

78 


The Hunt — Continued 79 

A shot followed. Immediately after, the tiger 
turned, looking just like a big cat. He gave 
three or four convulsive shakes and fell back 
without a sound on the snow, his hind legs sink- 
ing deep into it, and his front legs stretched to 
the sky. 

I ran toward Mikhailov, but, before I 
reached him, I felt a strong arm on my neck 
and a voice interrupted by deep breathing: 
“ Stop, you crazy boy! Wait! He might be 
able to break your neck yet. A tiger doesn’t 
die as quickly as that.” I stopped, and with 
the man who had spoken gazed where the tiger 
lay. It remained motionless. After a few 
seconds my companion judged it safe to ap- 
proach. Foma had shot him in the ear, killing 
him instantly. 

Mikhailov was lying with his right side and 
part of his head deeply imbedded in the snow. 
His fur coat had been torn from his shoulder, 
revealing a deep wound from which the shoul- 


80 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

der blade projected. At first sight his head 
seemed attached to the body only by a shred of 
skin, so unnaturally was it twisted to one side 
and covered by a thick mass of blood. 

Though shivering as if with a fever, I could 
not turn my eyes from the terrible sight. I re- 
gained possession of myself only when I heard 
my father’s voice as he came up on horseback. 

As he jumped down to examine Mikhailov 
he turned saying, “ Go, help my brother catch 
Daria’s horses.” 

The man addressed leaped at once on fa- 
ther’s horse and hit it with a nagaika (a Cos- 
sack whip). The spirited animal put back its 
ears, and like an arrow shot out toward where 
Daria’s horses could be just seen running 
around in circles in the snow. 

One by one the other hunters arrived and 
stood around Mikhailov. No one seemed to 
know what to do, and no one dared, appar- 
ently, say what he thought, although two of 


The Hunt — Continued 8l 

the men took off their hats as is generally done 
in the presence of Death. 

Finally some one did turn to my father with, 
“ Is he quite dead? ” 

As if in answer, Mikhailov just then made a 
faint movement with a finger of his left hand. 
It seemed to me that he was trying to signify 
something by this, especially as it was followed 
by a slight moan or two. Then again there 
was silence. 

Here some of the men began to talk, won- 
dering how he could have made so great a 
blunder. My father stopped them. “ It’s 
time to do something,” he said, and beckoning 
to two others to help him, tried to raise the 
wounded man into a more comfortable position. 
Mikhailov groaned faintly. 

“ Better let him die without hurting him,” 
interjected my uncle, turning his head away. 

“ But look ! ” quickly exclaimed an intelli- 
gent-looking young man. “ His face isn’t in- 


82 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

jured at all. Only his neck is torn. He 
might live long enough to take the sacrament 
at least, and even, perhaps, make his last will.” 

Four of the men again raised Mikhailov, 
my father supporting his head, and placed him 
on a saddle blanket that had been stretched out 
on the snow. 

Meanwhile Daria’s horses had been caught 
and she had driven up. As soon as sufficiently 
near, she slipped down from her sleigh and 
tottered toward the wounded man. Blood was 
still dripping from the neck. 

“Fools!” she exclaimed, looking indig- 
nantly at the men. “ It’s lucky the blood has 
partially clogged or he would have bled to 
death before your eyes.” 

Then turning to one of the Cossacks she 
added: “ Your blouse looks clean. Give it to 
me.” 

Without a word the man took it off and 
handed it to her. 


The Hunt — - Continued 83 

Paying no attention to the bits of advice that 
now began to be given, such as “ Put some to- 
bacco on the torn place,” “ Powder is the 
best thing,” she tore the shirt into pieces and 
began to bandage the wound. 

I watched her quick, sure movements with a 
constantly growing admiration, my former 
liking for her changing to a sort of reverent 
love. 

When she had finished and stretched herself 
with difficulty, I found that the men had not 
been idle. Dried twigs had been spread in the 
sleigh and these covered with several horse- 
blankets, the whole forming a comfortable bed. 
The quickness with which it had been made 
showed that the Cossacks were used to need- 
ing it. 

Several Cossacks now lifted the wounded 
man on to the sleigh with as great care and 
skill as that possessed by the best trained 
nurses. They then helped Daria to an espe- 


84 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

dally prepared place by his side. My uncle 
took the driver’s seat, and I, without waiting 
for invitation or permission, jumped up next to 
him. Slowly we drove off. 

I looked back once or twice to see what those 
left behind were doing. Some of them hung 
the tiger to a strong tree, the skin having al- 
ready been loosened from his legs. Then they 
carefully cut the thin under skin with their 
hunting knives and gradually pulled it off from 
the tail down. 

As soon as we arrived at the village, a man 
was sent on the swiftest horse to be found, to 
the nearest stannica (an administrative Cos- 
sack station) where a doctor was to be found . 1 

It was not until late at night that the doc- 
tor arrived. When he had examined the 
wound, he said: “ I can’t understand how he 
has lasted so long with so little help.” 

1 Each district has its own doctor receiving pay from the 
government. His duty is to attend to all Cossacks and their 
families, free of charge, whenever necessary. 


The Hunt — Continued 85 

“Will he live? ” some one asked. 

The doctor shook his head. “ There’s but 
little chance of that,” he said. 

But I may as well say here that Mikhailov 
did live, his wonderful constitution pulling him 
through. His neck, however, was crippled, his 
head always inclining toward the left side, and 
his left arm practically disabled. The acci- 
dent taught him wisdom, and later he took to 
hunting again, becoming the most renowned 
hunter of wolves and bears in our district. 

The tiger skin was sold to a passing mer- 
chant for sixty rubles, while the tiger’s heart 
was bought by a Chinaman, who intended, it 
was said, to reduce it to powder and sell it to 
those who thought that they could thus have 
some of the tiger’s bravery transmitted to them. 
The skull was given to Daria in acknowledg- 
ment of her services, and kept by her, with 
many other very curious things, in the front 
room of her little log house. 


CHAPTER XI 


A JOURNEY 

One day, not long after a traveling mer- 
chant had brought us news of Dimitri, my fa- 
ther called me to the bench on which he sat, 
and putting his hands on my head, asked: 
“ How would you like to learn to read and 
write? ” 

At first I did not know what to answer, the 
question was so unexpected. Glancing at my 
mother, I saw that it made her so uneasy that 
she dropped a tumbler on the floor, a very un- 
usual happening. 

Although father did not insist on my answer- 
ing, the question kept coming back to me all 
that day and the next, until I decided that to 
learn to read and write would be a very good 
thing. 

86 


A Journey 87 

For some days following this question, I no- 
ticed that father seemed to be brooding over 
something, and finally, to my great surprise, I 
accidentally learned that I was the cause of his 
worry. 

One night after I had gone to my bed, where 
I lay dreaming of having won distinction in 
the army, I heard mother say, “ What’s worry- 
ing you, Alexis? Are you sick? Or is any- 
thing wrong with the horses? Or” — here 
her voice trembled — “have you had bad tid- 
ings of Dimitri that you’re afraid to tell 
me?” 

“ Oh, no,” father answered. “ Nothing is 
wrong.” Then he abruptly changed the con- 
versation. “ Do you remember Monga- 
lov ? ” 

“ Do you mean your chum, Vanka, whom 
my mother spanked when he threw mud at me 
as a child? ” 

“ That’s the one,” replied my father. 


88 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

“ But you mustn’t call him Vanka any more. 
Didn’t Mitya tell you that he is now a sot - 
nik?” 1 

“ What ! An officer ! Is it possible ? ” 
“Yes, — and I am not,” said my father 
with a certain bitterness in his voice. “Yet I 
had a better chance in some ways than he.” 
Here his voice sank lower. “ Now, our Vanka 
isn’t stupid, and if we give him an education I 
don’t see why he shouldn’t become an officer. 
Too bad that that fellow Gabrilov, whom we 
had here as a teacher last spring, turned out to 
be such a drunkard. We really had to get rid 
of him.” 

Mother interrupted him. “ Judging by 
Gabrilov, education isn’t such a splendid thing. 
Boys brought up in town learn all sorts of 
wicked things. I’d rather keep Vanka here. 
He can learn to be as good a Cossack in our 
village as anywhere else. Mongalov may 

1 An officer in the Cossack cavalry. 


A Journey 89 

dress better than you, but he isn’t respected a 
bit more. After Katia is married I don’t see 
how I can get along without Vanka.” 

Here I fell asleep with the pleasant knowl- 
edge that, after all, I was not simply a nuisance 
but meant something to my parents. 

The next morning father went about his 
work as usual, feeding the horses and cattle, 
and bringing wood and cutting it. In the 
meantime mother brought water from the well 
in the middle of the yard, and I pumped water 
into a big trough to which I led the horses. 

When this had been done, father caught two 
of the horses, gave them some grain and tied 
them to a post. 

Seeing my look of inquiry, he smilingly re- 
peated a favorite proverb, “ Don’t try to learn 
too much or your hair will turn gray.” 

As we went in to breakfast his lips moved as 
if he were talking to himself, a habit he had 
formed whenever he had a great deal on his 


go Our Little Cossack Cousin 
mind. Mother watched him with a troubled 
air, and at last asked: “ What’s the matter, 
Alexis? ” 

Without replying to her question, he said, 
“ I have to go to Habarovsk to-day, and I’ll 
take Vanyuska with me. I’ve been promising 
him the ride for a long time.” 

I jumped up, waved my arms, and with my 
mouth full of bread, shouted: “ Hurrah! ” 

My mother stopped me. “ Sit down, you 
foolish boy. You can’t go. I need you.” 

But, after a long argument, mother agreed 
to my going. Then father and I cleaned the 
horses and tied their tails up as high as possible, 
for at this time of the year the roads were very 
muddy. I placed a light saddle on the horse I 
was to ride, and father’s military saddle with 
its high trees on the other horse. As father 
put some sacks with forage behind these, Katia 
came out with something that mother was send- 
ing Dimitri. I was very glad to see this, for 


A Journey 91 

it meant that we were going to visit the Cossack 
barracks. 

Half an hour later we had left home and 
were making our way through the deep mud. 
It was a beautiful Spring morning. The air 
was fresh and clear, and, despite the heavy road, 
the horses were full of spirit and went on with 
a light and springy gait. 

At a turn of the road I suddenly saw two rab- 
bits sitting about a hundred feet from us. 
Pointing to them, I called to my father to look. 
Here my horse jumped to one side and I was 
all but thrown from the saddle. 

My father was quite angry. He turned to 
me exclaiming roughly: “What’s the matter 
with you? A Cossack should always watch his 
horse. He must never be taken by surprise 
even should the horse leap a fence. You al- 
most fell like a sack.” 

Since that lesson I have never failed in watch- 
fulness, never “ fallen asleep,” as the Cossacks 


92 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

say, even when trying to ride a mule or an ox. 

We did not meet many travelers. Once a 
company of dusky, flat-featured natives of the 
Lake Baikal region, passed us, splendidly 
mounted on their horses. Their large, squat 
bodies gave them a somewhat forbidding air, 
but I knew how peaceful and harmless they 
really are. The Russians call them Bratskie 
(brotherly people). One was dressed in a 
long, purplish blue cloak, lined with fur, and 
had on a curious blue cone-shaped hat. The 
others were evidently Cossacks, for they had 
on the distinguishing uniform. They may have 
been on their way to some Buddhist shrine, for 
the Russian Government, severe with its own 
people, allows those born into other religions to 
worship as they please. “ God gave us our 
religion. He gave them theirs,” expresses the 
attitude taken. 

It was just here that we were overtaken by a 
man mounted like ourselves on a shaggy Si- 


A Journey 93 

berian pony. When he had come up, both he 
and my father gave expression to surprised 
greetings. He proved to be an old-time ac- 
quaintance. There was no end of questions 
and answers for he rode with us as far as our 
destination. He had just come from the city 
of Vladivostok , 1 the great growing seaport of 
Siberia. As he gave a glowing description of 
the place, I was reminded of the meaning of 
the name Vladi-vostok — possessor of the 
East. 

“ We may build a great trade with the 
United States through Vladivostok,” he re- 
marked among other things. “ It has a splen- 
did, land-locked harbor, large enough for any 
number of vessels, — and a beautiful one as 
well.” 

“ But isn’t it frozen a large part of the 
year?” my father asked. 

1 Now connected by the longest railroad in the world with 
Petrograd (St. Petersburg), Russia. 


94 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
“ From the latter part of December to April. 
It’s really too bad so great a country as ours 
hasn’t an outlet further south. But all trade 
isn’t stopped on account of the ice. There is 
a channel kept open for the largest ships all 
winter by means of ice-breakers.” 

“ What kind of people are there in Vladi- 
vostok?” I ventured to ask, half fearful of 
saying something ridiculous. 

The man turned to me with a smile. 
“ Many exactly like those in your village. 
Then people from different parts of Europe, 
and Chinese and Japanese. Also quite a num- 
ber of Koreans, whom you can tell by their 
white dress. You’ll see those in Habarovsk, 
also.” After a moment’s pause, he went on, 
“ The bay is called the Golden Horn (Zolotoy 
Rog) . The town rises up from it in terraces. 
It is very picturesque.” 

“ I suppose there is a fort there,” I again 
ventured. 


A Journey 95 

This time the man laughed. “ If you visited 
this seaport you might think it all forts. There 
are defenses, — forts and guns, — whole lines 
of them, everywhere. The greater part of the 
population consists of soldiers and sailors.” 

Here my father broached the subject of 
which his mind seemed so full these days. “ I 
suppose there are fine schools,” he said. 

I was so stiff by this time, and my back ached 
so much from the long unusual ride, that I was 
no longer able to concentrate my mind on any- 
thing except that I must not disgrace my father 
and myself by showing fatigue. 

At last we approached the great Amur River. 
Across it we could just make out a few black 
spots and the shining roof of a church. 

After a half hour ride we came to a place on 
the bank where a raft was stationed. A few 
people were already aboard, desiring, like our- 
selves, to be taken across. Two soldiers had 
the boat in charge, and as soon as we were on, 


g6 Our Little Cossack Cousin 
every one helped them in making the somewhat 
difficult trip. 

On the opposite bank we parted from our 
companion, and then, for the first time, I fully 
realized that we had reached our destination, — 
the important garrison town of Habarovsk. 


CHAPTER XII 


A GARRISON TOWN 

This was my first visit to a city, and I gazed 
with very wide wonder at the wooden sidewalks, 
the big stores, the many two-story houses, the 
well-dressed women and the numerous soldiers 
on the street. I could hardly understand what 
father said to me, so absorbed was I in the 
entirely new scenes before me. 

Suddenly we heard the sound of trumpets, 
cymbals, and tambourines, accompanied by a 
lively song. Then a company of Cossacks on 
horseback issued from a side street. At the 
head of the column rode a group of special 
singers, — pesenniki. 

Father and I stationed ourselves near the 
edge of the street, and tried to find a familiar 
figure. The long row of faces splashed here 


97 


98 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

and there with mud; the similar uniforms, with 
rifles protruding from leather straps at the back 
and swords at the side; the hats tipped to the 
right, all exactly at the same angle; every left 
hand holding the bridle reins, every right hand 
placed on the hips; — how was it possible to 
distinguish among them? 

I soon decided that my only chance of finding 
Dimitri was to look for his horse, which I knew 
to be gray, while the majority were bay. It 
was not long before I shouted: “ Father, look 
at the eighth row ! Dimitri ! ” Then still 
louder: “Dimitri! Dimitri! Look! Here 
we are ! ” 

Brother turned and nodded, but, to my great 
astonishment, did not come to us, but followed 
the others without giving any other expression 
of recognition. 

Then I heard father saying, “ Why can’t you 
be quiet? Dimitri can’t come to us until his 
company is dismissed.” 


A Garrison Town 99 

Meanwhile the Cossacks, six abreast, con- 
tinued to ride past us whistling and singing. 

The entire population of the place now 
seemed to gather on the sidewalk. There were 
merchants in front of their stores, boys who 
tried hard to keep step with the horses, women 
returning from market with baskets on their 
arms, all gazing with appreciation at what was 
a daily sight. How very desirable it seemed to 
me to be one of such a company. How glad I 
was that my brother belonged to it, and that 
my father was a Cossack. Hoping to impress 
a pretty little girl who stood near me, I took 
off my felt cap with its yellow cloth top, sym- 
bolic of the East Siberian Cossacks, and then 
having looked at it, slowly put it on again. 

The Cossack officers rode on one side of the 
men. They were distinguished not only by 
their brighter uniforms but also by the half 
Arabian horses on which they were mounted. 
Many of them had silver-plated belts around 


100 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

their waists. They had no rifles, only swords 
that shone brightly, while revolvers hung from 
their left sides. The bridles of their horses 
glimmered with silver. All the horses were 
covered with foam, showing that the drill had 
been no easy one. 

When we reached the barracks, the com- 
manding officer gave an order, and the whole 
company leaped like one man from their horses 
to the ground. Another order, and the horses 
were led to the stables, adobe buildings covered 
with thatched roofs. 

After the horses were rubbed down and fed, 
Dimitri at last came and embraced us, saying: 
“ Wait for me at the rooms of the second 
platoon, where I’ll join you as soon as I am 
free.” 

Then he ran with others to wash before 
taking his place in the dining-room. As we 
made our way to the dormitory, my attention 
was again attracted by singing, but of a differ- 


A Garrison Town 101 

ent kind. It was the solemn prayer which was 
always chanted before dinner. 

Soon we found ourselves in a long room in 
a brick building. Everything about it was 
exceedingly neat. High windows admitted 
plenty of light, and as all were open there was 
a fine circulation of fresh air. The walls were 
apparently freshly white-washed, the floors 
painted. In one corner hung a big ikon with a 
lamp under it. About fifty iron beds placed in 
two rows were down the middle. Each bed 
was covered with a gray blanket and each was 
marked with the name of the owner. Along 
the inside of the wall stood racks for the rifles. 

When, after a half hour, we heard the chant- 
ing of the prayer of thanks in the dining-room 
near by, we looked expectantly at the door. 
The company soon filed in. Some stretched 
themselves on their beds, some sat down to 
read, and some began to mend their clothes. 

When Dimitri came, one of father’s first in- 


102 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

quiries was regarding schools and the promo- 
tion to officer rank. My brother was not well 
posted and so called the sergeant-major to help 
him. Time passed quickly until the hour for 
drill. Then the first Cossack who noticed that 
an officer had entered the room, exclaimed, 
“ Silence ! Rise ! ” 

At once there was deep quiet as all arose. I 
was amazed at the sudden change, and looked 
with respect and fear at the man who could 
produce it. It was father’s old-time friend, 
Captain Mongalov. I watched everything that 
he did with great intentness, noted how his 
worn-out uniform was tightly buttoned, how 
erect he held his body. Even the curves of his 
legs, probably caused from living so much on 
horseback, and the way he swayed from side to 
side as he walked, attracted me. And how 
splendid and fierce I thought his big black 
mustache reaching almost to his ears. 

His face was a peculiar mixture of the Rus- 


A Garrison Town 103 

sian and Asiatic types, occasionally met among 
Siberian Cossacks. When he smiled, he 
showed two rows of perfect ivory, and he 
smiled often. Yet even with his comrades his 
expression could change to one of great stern- 
ness at the least break of discipline. 

When he saw us he turned to my father with, 
“ From where do you hail, friend? ” 

Father slowly and smilingly replied, “ Don’t 
you recognize me, Ivan Petrovitch? I have 
just come from the Ussuri.” 

“What! Is it you, Alexis Pavlovitch!” 
Mongalov exclaimed. “ It’s ages since I last 
saw you.” And he embraced my father. 

After a short exchange of reminiscences, he 
turned to me. “ Is this your son? He 
promises to make a fine Cossack! Are you 
keeping in mind, my son, Cossack ideals of bra- 
very and honor?” 

Drawing myself to my full height in imita- 
tion of the bearing of those around me, I 


104 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

answered as well as I could, looking straight 
into his eyes as I did so. 

“ Good! ” he exclaimed, and taking hold of 
me under the elbows he tossed me, like an old 
acquaintance, high into the air. 

Then, suddenly, he turned to my father. 
“ You must excuse me now. I want to see 
more of you some evening at my house.” And, 
in a flash, the genial friend had changed into 
the stern commander of a company who, at a 
single word from him, proceeded to do the vari- 
ous tasks necessary before retiring. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A COSSACK DRILL 

The night was spent at the home of an aunt, 
whose husband, a grocer, was also a retired 
Cossack. Their home was a very humble one, 
but what it lacked in luxury it made up in the 
hospitality of its owners. 

Fresh straw for beds was brought in and 
put in a room set apart. This straw was cov- 
ered with heavy home-spun bed linen, some 
feather pillows, and two big fur coats as com- 
forters. After a fire had been kindled in the 
stove, we were invited to partake of supper, 
which consisted of deer meat, pancakes heavily 
buttered, and sour cream. 

After eating very heartily I became so sleepy 
that I was ordered to bed. When I awoke, 
the sun was streaming directly into my face. 


105 


106 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

Father, who was already dressed, tried to hurry 
me by saying, “ You are a nice Cossack! They 
must be half through the drill which you were 
so anxious to see. Mongalov has promised to 
give you a horse so that you can follow the 
sotnia ” (a company of from one hundred and 
twenty to one hundred and sixty horsemen) . 

This was news to me. Burning my mouth 
in my haste to swallow my hot tea, I was ready 
to follow my father in a few minutes. 

When we came to the barracks the Cossacks, 
holding on to the reins of their horses with their 
right hands, were assembled in the front yard, 
and the sergeant-major was calling the roll. 
“ We came too late for the morning prayer,” 
my father whispered to me as the roll was 
ended. 

Here came an order from the sergeant- 
major. “ Seat yourselves.” At once every 
man leaped upon his horse. 

“ Line up,” came next, and the horses ar- 


A Cossack Drill 


107 

ranged themselves in two straight lines, head to 
head and breast to breast. 

“ Silence ! ” was the next order, and all gazed 
mutely ahead, immovable as statues. 

Some long command, the words of which I 
did not catch, followed, and the company 
changed positions to six in a row. A moment 
after, all were trotting along the road out of 
town. 

As we started to follow, the sergeant-major 
hailed me. “Good morning! Are you the 
young fellow whom Captain Mongalov wishes 
to have a horse? ” 

“ Yes,” answered my father for me, adding, 
“ But I’m afraid he isn’t a good enough rider 
to follow the company.” 

“ Never fear,” returned the sergeant-major. 
“ I’ll bet he’s a true Cossack and will take to 
horses as a duck does to a lake.” 

A soldier now held a horse until I had 
climbed into its saddle. When he let it go, it 


108 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

started so fast to catch up with the others that 
I had difficulty in keeping my seat. However 
I did this, and also managed to prevent the 
horse from joining the ranks. 

After we had left the city, the company was 
halted in a big plain which stretched far out 
before us. It was somewhat rolling, with here 
and there washed-out places. The sergeant- 
major rode along the line inspecting the am- 
munition and appearance of the men. While 
he was doing this, horses were heard approach- 
ing at full speed. On the foremost sat Mon- 
galov. A little behind came two other officers. 

“Greetings to you, little brothers!” he 
shouted as he rode along the line without rein- 
ing in his horse. 

Then I was almost dumbfounded by the sud- 
denness of a gigantic answer. “ Good Day to 
Your Honor,” came from the company as from 
one man. 

Mongalov noticed me and kindly stopped to 


A Cossack Drill 109 

say: “ Keep close to the trumpeter and you’ll 
see everything. Only don’t get into anybody’s 
way or I’ll have 1 to arrest you.” With a smil- 
ing nod he rode to the front. 

At a word from him, the officers took' their 
places. Then followed several changes of 
position, all done with great rapidity and 
precision. I learned later that Captain Mon- 
galov’s men were unusually well trained even 
for Cossacks. The Captain loved his profes- 
sion and the men were devoted to him. There 
was something fatherly in the great care that 
he took of the Cossacks under him. On the 
other hand, he was severe in punishing any 
breach of discipline. No one resented this 
since he was just and endeavored to make the 
punishment corrective. 

At the conclusion of the drill Mongalov 
called out in a voice resounding with warm 
approval: “Well done, little brothers, well 
done. Thank you ! ” 


no Our Little Cossack Cousin 

And again, as one man, the company re- 
sponded: “We were glad to do our best, 
Your Honor.” 

“ Down ! ” was the next order. 

All leaped together to the ground. 

“ Rest and smoke,” came again, and he and 
his officers jumped off their own horses and 
stood together discussing the next drill. 

The company followed their example, and 
soon burst into loud talk and laughter, while 
clouds of smoke arose from pipes and ciga- 
rettes. 

In the meantime I didn’t know what to do. 
I was afraid that if I climbed down I couldn’t 
get up again on my horse, who seemed un- 
usually lively and disobedient to me. But I 
was not left long in this awkward position, for 
after a quarter of an hour of rest the Cossacks 
were again on their horses, every man ready to 
obey any order. 

To judge by the alert look on their faces, 


A Cossack Drill in 

the most important part of the drill was now to 
come. Every eye was turned toward their 
commanding officer as if trying to guess what 
new trick would be required of them. 

Mongalov sat on his steed, his right hand 
twirling his mustache, his eyes directed far down 
the field as if surveying the distance or estimat- 
ing the difficulties before his men. Then his 
voice rang out abruptly: “ Company, build 
lava! ” 

These words produced an effect like a dis- 
charge of ammunition in the midst of the Cos- 
sacks. The horses rushed madly forward and 
to each side of the center, forming a kind of 
fan. Only by putting forth the full strength 
of my arm did I keep my horse in place, the 
proud animal trying so hard to show that she 
understood the command. 

In the wink of an eye the compact body of 
horses was transformed into a long line of sep- 
arate riders, stretched so that there was about 


112 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

twenty feet between each. All were still, the 
men with swords drawn out of their scabbards. 

Mongalov no longer shouted orders but indi- 
cated what was to be done by waving his sword 
in different directions. As if charmed by its 
motions, the long line moved, now to the right, 
now to the left, now forward, now backward. 

Once Mongalov, evidently dissatisfied, or- 
dered the trumpeter to repeat through the 
trumpet the order given with the sword. Since 
that time I have loved the harmonious sounds 
of the Cossack trumpet which in a very short 
time I grew to understand as plainly as spoken 
words. 

Here something happened. Mongalov 
again made a sign to the trumpeter. A short, 
disagreeably false tone was the result. At this 
the Cossacks acted like mad. With swords out- 
stretched, they bent down to their horses’ manes 
and with a terrible yell, “ Whee-ee ! ” they 
rushed wildly to the front against an imaginary 


A Cossack Drill 113 

enemy. My horse with ears back, took her 
bit between her teeth, and flew after them. 
Here I learned how rapidly a horse can travel. 
The air whistled in my ears; my hat was blown 
off; my feet flew from the stirrups; and not to 
be thrown off, I grabbed the horse by the mane, 
uttering a short prayer. 

I did not know what was happening around 
me until I found myself, perhaps because of 
my light weight, among the other Cossacks. 
Around me were excited faces with wild expres- 
sions; faces that had lost their humanity; faces 
such as demons might possess, or Christian 
fanatics who would lay down their lives for 
their faith. 

As we rode, a big washout suddenly loomed 
before us. Most of the horses immediately 
jumped over and disappeared in a mad rush 
forward. But my horse and those of three 
men, perhaps through some fault on our part, 
did not make the proper jump. I felt a shock 


114 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

as the hoofs of my horse struck the opposite 
banks of the ravine, and then the horse fell to 
the ground, throwing me over its head into the 
middle of a mud-hole. 

As I struggled to get up, there came a new 
signal of three long harmonious sounds. The 
lava was stopped. Once out of the hole, I saw 
a line of still excited horses far to the front. 
Two or three riderless horses, one of them 
mine, were running around them. Not far 
from me lay another breathing hard and trying 
vainly to rise. Near it a Cossack lay stretched 
out, while two others sat on the ground a short 
distance away. 

In a short time Mongalov, the trumpeter, 
and two officers, came galloping to us. His 
first question was to me. “Are you hurt?” 

“ No,” I replied, in a voice that sounded 
strange to me, so shaken was I with the new 
experience. 

“ Here,” said Mongalov to a Cossack, 


A Cossack Drill 


115 

“ place this boy back of yourself.” Then, 
throwing the reins of his horse to the trumpeter, 
he leaped down and turned his attention to the 
man lying stretched on the ground. 

He proved to be alive but with a leg broken 
and was put into the ambulance which had come 
up. “ What’s the matter with you? ” Monga- 
lov asked the two bruised, scratched, and mud- 
covered men who sat on the ground. 

" Nichevo” 1 they answered, smiling and 
shaking their heads. And as soon as their 
horses were caught and brought to them, they 
managed to leap on them as if in reality noth- 
ing had happened. 

When my horse was led up, Mongalov 
looked at me where I sat ashamed to meet his 
gaze, holding tightly to the belt of the man 
before me. “ You can stay where you are, my 
boy,” he said kindly, “ or ride your own horse. 
But let me congratulate you on being now a true 

1 Nothing; no harm. 


n6 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

Cossack. The man who has never fallen from 
his saddle can never make a satisfactory cav- 
alryman ! ” 

How much good these words did me ! They 
not only made me feel at ease with myself, but 
taught me one of the best lessons of my life: 
that mistakes or mishaps do not down a man 
who can rise above them. With some difficulty 
I slipped from my safe position, and climbed 
as swiftly as possible into the saddle of my 
former horse. 

It was not long before the entire company 
were again on their way back to town. At the 
call “ Singers forward,” several Cossacks left 
the ranks and took their places at the head of 
the column. One of these men was urged to 
sing and he responded with a Little Russian 
song about a Cossack who returned home from 
fighting the Turks. At the conclusion of each 
stanza those surrounding the soloist began the 
refrain which was taken up by the entire com- 


A Cossack Drill 117 

pany. Listening to this story-telling song I 
almost forgot that I was in Siberia, so vividly 
did pictures of what took place far away a hun- 
dred years ago pass before me. 

This song was followed by a boisterous rol- 
licking one. The chorus was loud and accom- 
panied by cymbals and tambourine. Any one 
glancing at the broadly smiling and yelling 
faces, would not have believed that their owners 
were just returning from the most strenuous 
kind of work, had it not been for the mud and 
perspiration visible and their foam-covered 
horses. 


CHAPTER XIV 

AN EVENING VISIT 

As we approached the town, there was less 
talking and laughing and the singing became 
less boisterous. The crowds gathered as I had 
seen them before, and showed their apprecia- 
tion of the songs by now and then joining in the 
chorus. 

Before the barracks were reached, the men 
leaped down from the horses, loosened their 
saddle girths, and led them to the stables. 
Here they unsaddled them, gave them hay, and 
curried them, while the non-commissioned offi- 
cers inspected their legs as well as the skin that 
had been under the saddles. This was done 
with much caution, for Captain Mongalov was 
particularly strict regarding the health and 
118 



COSSACK OFFICERS 



‘ 




An Evening Visit 119 

care of the horses. Where there was negli- 
gence, his usual reprimand was apt to end with: 
“ Don’t forget next time that the Cossack 
army’s efficiency depends more on the sound 
legs of a good horse than on the blockhead who 
does not know enough to take care of them.” 

When all the horses had been inspected, 
cleaned, watered, and given their prescribed 
measure of oats, the men were allowed to go to 
get themselves ready for dinner, leaving, how- 
ever, four men whose turn it was to take care 
of the stables. 

I wish there were time to tell of all the won- 
ders of that garrison visit, of the dinner in the 
big dining-room with Dimitri, of the lessons 
given the young men, of the instructing officers, 
and most of all of my first sight of the fascinat- 
ing and difficult exercise called the jigatovka, 
which I saw that same afternoon, and which 
consisted of horse vaulting, dart throwing at a 
gallop and many other things. 


120 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

Captain Mongalov invited us all to spend the 
evening at his house, and by six o’clock my 
father, my aunt, and I were at his front door. 
Being a little in advance of the others, I tried 
to open it, but, to my surprise, found it was not 
possible to do so. Could it be locked, I won- 
dered. In our village such a thing was never 
done except under very unusual circumstances. 
Father, noting my surprise, pointed to a handle 
on the door which he bade me pull down. I did 
so and heard a loud ring within. In a moment 
the door was opened by an orderly, who greeted 
us like friends and invited us in. 

When he had gone to announce us, I glanced 
around the room. A big desk occupied the left 
corner, the top of which was covered with 
books relating to military regulations. The 
big brass inkstand with its two kinds of ink, 
black and red, especially attracted me. On a 
table near by, a heavy nickel-plated lamp threw 
its light over a mass of official papers. In- 


An Evening Visit 121 

stead of benches around the room as at my 
own home there were numerous comfortable 
chairs. 

One wall was covered with the skins of wild 
beasts. I recognized those of a black and 
of a brown bear. Above these were fastened 
enormous antlers. On their very numerous 
branches hung swords, daggers, and other arms. 
Pictures, one of w T hich was that of an old lady 
plainly dressed (the Captain’s mother), hung 
on the opposite wall. 

Then my attention fastened itself on a big 
tiger skin covering a sofa. I touched the arti- 
ficial eyes which looked so imtently at me; I 
wondered if the teeth were real. So occupied 
did I become that it was like an electric shock 
to feel a sudden clap on my shoulder and the 
Captain’s hearty voice greeting me. 

I immediately experienced a strong desire to 
converse with him as I would with an older 
brother, but he had turned from me and was 


122 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

busy answering some of my father’s numerous 
questions. 

The bell rang again and admitted a new 
group. My aunt at once stepped up and threw 
her arms about one of the women in it, who 
proved to be her own cousin from the pretty 
neighboring city of Blagovestchensk. Closely 
following the cousin came her husband, a for- 
mer artillery officer, with a very long beard. 
His thick, bushy gray hair framed a small sym- 
pathetic face. With them was a pale but very 
attractive lady dressed in a gray suit. A little 
girl of about my own age, had hold of her 
hand. 

Mongalov greeted this lady with particular 
respect and gallantly kissed her hand. Then 
he invited all to take off their wraps and make 
themselves at home, that is, all but Nina, the 
little girl, and myself. He had beckoned to 
us to follow the orderly into the garden. 

Here we found many things to interest us. 


An Evening Visit 123 

There was a horse that refused sugar from 
Nina but accepted, to my great delight, bread 
and salt from me. There were fancy chickens, 
and, best of all, a sort of see-saw on which I 
condescended to accept Nina’s invitation to 
play. We stood as straight as possible on the 
board which was balanced on a log, and as it 
went up and down jumped alternately into the 
air, each time going a little higher. Nina was 
not at all afraid, and despite a peculiar serious- 
ness about her, we were well acquainted when 
supper was announced. 

The table, set with more good things than I 
had ever seen before, was in a long dining- 
room. Soon everybody was laughing and jok- 
ing, everybody except Nina’s mother. It 
seemed to me that she was not like the rest of 
us but I could not have told why. 

The supper lasted a long time and when we 
returned to the big living-room, the piano, 
which stood on one side, was opened and Lidia 


124 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

Ivanovna, the lady in gray, consented to play 
some Russian airs from Glinka’s opera, “ Life 
of the Tzar.” 

Shortly after, both she and her little daugh- 
ter as well as my aunt’s cousin left, pleading 
the weariness still felt by the strangers from 
long travel. 

When they had gone, Mongalov turned to 
the former artillery officer, whose name was 
Kuzmin, and asked, “ Where did you meet 
Lidia Ivanovna? ” 

“ She came with a caravan of prisoners sent 
from St. Petersburg.” (Petrograd.) “ I am 
told that she is looking for her husband who 
was sent to Siberia a few years ago as a political 
exile . 1 If she can find him, she wishes to share 
his fate.” 

Here I exclaimed impulsively: “It ought 
to be easy to find him. The government offi- 
cials can surely tell her where he is.” 

1 Siberia was formerly a penal colony. 


An Evening Visit 125 

Kuzmin smiled bitterly. u They can, per- 
haps, if they wish. You must remember, how- 
ever, that Siberia is no little state. When I 
came here, it was with many thousands of pris- 
oners, mostly Poles who had fought for their 
country’s independence, and they are now so 
scattered that you might not meet a dozen in a 
lifetime.” 

“ How big is Siberia? ” I asked. 

“ In figures, it is more than five million 
square miles, but see that map hanging on the 
wall,” said the old man with some eagerness, as 
if glad of the change in the conversation, “ and 
see that little dot. That stands for the biggest 
city you know, the one you are now in, Hab- 
arovsk.” 

“ That little dot! ” I exclaimed in surprise, 
for no one had ever explained a map to me be- 
fore. 

“ This waving line,” continued Kuzmin, “ is 
the Amur River.” 


126 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

Again I stared incredulously. How could 
a little line stand for the very wide Amur whose 
waters ran from horizon to horizon ! 

“ Now that is only a small part of Siberia,” 
said my new teacher. “ From here at 
Habarovsk to the Ural Mountains, which sep- 
arate Siberia from Russia, it takes two months 
to travel both day and night in a car- 
riage.” 

“ Tell me some other things about Siberia,” I 
begged. 

He pointed to a blue spot in the south. 
“ This is Lake Baikal , 1 the largest body of fresh 
water in Asia, about four hundred miles long 
and about forty-five miles wide. It is fifteen 

1 Lake Baikal’s depth has never been measured. It is said 
to be the deepest lake in the world. There are many very 
interesting things about this lake. For one thing, every- 
thing points to its being very ancient. Water flowing into 
it is supposed to be ten times that flowing out into the Angara 
River. What becomes of it? Its waters are fresh, yet gulls, 
cormorants, and other birds usually found only on the sea, 
haunt it, and seals actually live in it. The peasants call it 
the Holy Sea and have many superstitions regarding it. — 
The Editor. 


An Evening Visit 127 

hundred feet above the level of the sea. It is 
a place full of mystery. I don’t know if any 
one yet has been able to find how deep it is. 
On one side are all kinds of caverns and arches. 
It’s pretty but it’s mysterious. Now and then 
the earth in the vicinity trembles and quakes. 
Irkutsk, the largest and most important city in 
Siberia, is not very far from it.” 

After a moment’s pause, he went on: “ Let 
me tell you something of Blagovestchensk , 1 my 
own city. But no; I’d talk too long. Why 
don’t you move there ? ” turning suddenly to 
my father. 

My father shook his head. “ If I move,” 
he said slowly, “ I want to try farming.” 

“ Farming offers many inducements,” agreed 
Kuzmin. “ I meet many farmers who came 
here penniless and now have hundreds of acres 

1 Blagovestchensk is now one of the prettiest cities in 
Siberia. It has tree-lined avenues, parks, and attractive 
residences. There are also fine schools, public libraries, 
theaters, and hospitals free to the poor. — The Editor. 


128 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

of land and hundreds of head of cattle and 
stables filled with grain.” 1 

“ Were you ever in St. Petersburg? ” I asked 
unexpectedly. At this question a queer change 
came over Kuzmin’s face and he looked down 
without answering. 

Here Mongalov reached for his balalaika, a 
sort of Russian mandolin, and began to play 
some gay Russian airs on it. 

When we reached home, I asked my father 
why Kuzmin did not wish to talk about St. 
Petersburg. 

“ He is a useful and clever man,” my father 
answered, “ but, poor fellow, he belongs to the 
unfortunates.” 

From that I understood that, like Lidia 
Ivanovna’s husband, the former artillery officer 
was an exile. 

1 Between 1905 and 1914 more than 3,000,000 colonists 
settled in Siberia. A great deal has been done by the Rus- 
sian Government to help the new settlers in their new life. — 
The Editor. 


CHAPTER XV 


LENT AND EASTER 

Next morning my father took me to an ex- 
hibition held to show something of the re- 
sources of Siberia. While I studied the many 
evidences of great mineral wealth , 1 my father 
devoted his attention to everything that per- 
tained to farming. 

On the way back to my aunt’s I learned that 
we were not to go home yet, father having de- 
cided to stay for the week of repentance, a 
religious custom observed by orthodox Rus- 
sians. 

“ You are now old enough to take your first 
sacrament after confession,” he said to me. 

1 Siberia is remarkably rich in minerals. It is especially 
famed for its gold, which is found chiefly in Central and 
Eastern Siberia. 


129 


130 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

When I went next to the big church, with its 
onion-shaped dome, I felt quite nervous think- 
ingsof all the faults and sins that I would have 
to confess for the first time in, my life. 

The service was a very solemn one. Every 
once in a while one of the black-robed priests 
came out from behind the sacred gates on the 
altar and read the prayer: 

“ Lord and Protector of my life, 

Keep me from idleness, 

Keep me from disappointment, 

Keep me from false ambition, 

Keep me from idle chattering. 

Give me chastity, 

Give me humility and love, 

Me, Thy servant. 

O Heavenly Czar, open my eyes to my sins ; 
Let me not judge my neighbors, 

Let me reverence Thee always.” 

Not until the end of the service did the choir 
sing something very sweet in a minor key. 

Child though I was, I left the church with a 
sense of the vanity of earthly things. I was 


Lent and Easter 


131 

ready to repent. I particularly remembered a 
day when I had taken a stick and hit my dog, 
poor dear Manjur. This, I told myself, I must 
confess, and also how often I had teased my 
baby sister. 

On the night of confession, when, after a very 
long wait, my turn came, I found myself be- 
fore a priest whose long beard made his face 
remind me of pictures of prophets that I had 
seen. It was very late, and he looked tired, 
but his eyes shone with sympathy as he listened 
to my brief recital. 

I was so overcome with weariness 1 when I 
reached home that I threw myself, supperless 
and partly dressed, on my bed and at once fell 
asleep. 

I awoke very hungry next morning and after 
washing, hurried to the table where breakfast 
usually awaited me. The table was empty and 

1 There are no. pews in Orthodox Russian churches. The 
entire congregation stands or kneels during the entire serv- 
ice. — The Editor. 


132 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

all the people in the room were dressed in their 

Sunday clothes. 

“ Get ready quickly,” said my father, “ to 
come with us to church.” 

“ But can’t I have some bread s and tea first? ” 
I asked. 

“ No, indeed,” said my father sternly. 
“ You must not drink even a drop of water 
between confession and the taking of the sac- 
rament.” 

“ A drop of water ! ” I repeated in confusion. 
For it had happened that I had swallowed a 
drop when washing that morning. This trou- 
bled me until later the priest assured me that 
that did not count, since it had been involun- 
tary. 

I went to church with stomach groaning 
for food. This, and the incense-laden air, 
caused me to feel faint until at last with many 
others, I received my share of the consecrated 
bread and wine. 


Lent and Easter 133 

This somewhat revived me, and I looked 
around with more interest at the people near 
by. There were several persons of note in the 
church, some in government uniforms with 
numerous medals on their breasts. Mongalov 
and his Cossack officers were among these, 
dressed in entirely new uniforms, but without 
fire-arms or ammunition, even their swords be- 
ing detached and kept for them by outsiders 
until they had partaken of the sacrament. 

When we came back to my aunt’s I found 
many preparations already made for the Eas- 
ter festival. The big dining-table had been 
much enlarged. It was covered with a white 
cloth and decorated with flowers and greens. 
On it were all kinds of attractive food. I was 
most impressed by what the Russians call 
pashka. It was in the shape of a pyramid and 
had been made by my aunt from cottage cheese, 
mixed with cream, sugar, and raisins. On it 
were figures of the Cross. 


134 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

On each side of the pashka, which occupied 
the center of the table, was an entire ham 
baked in dough, several dozen eggs covered 
with various bright designs, and many other 
things. 

To my great disappointment, nobody was al- 
lowed to touch even a bit of bread. Every- 
thing had to wait for Easter morn. 

I was told that I should be awakened that 
night, and I was by the solemn ringing of 
the heaviest bells in the neighborhood. We 
dressed hastily and hurried to the church for 
the midnight service. There were so many al- 
ready there that we had difficulty in entering. 

Everybody looked happy, even the priests 
who were all dressed in white, silvery robes. 
When the service was over there was much 
kissing, every one repeating, “ Christ is risen,” 
or the response, “ He is risen indeed.” 

It was almost four o’clock before we re- 
turned home with two or three guests who had 


Lent and Easter 135 

been invited to break the fast with us. Before 
any other food was served, small pieces of con- 
secrated pashka and an Easter cake called 
kulich were passed around. 

The next day was spent by the men in pay- 
ing calls to all whom they knew. As they had 
to eat and drink at every house, the result can 
be imagined. 

The Easter celebration lasted a full week. 
What I liked best about it was the merry roll- 
ing of eggs down hill, the swings, enormous 
slides and see-saws, and other amusements pro- 
vided for the children. 

At last the joyous time came to an end, and 
after a last breakfast with Dimitri in the din- 
ing-room of the Second Platoon, father and 
I mounted our horses for home. 

It seemed very long to me since I had come 
away. I thought several times of Peter and 
wondered if I could not show him some of the 
tricks of the jigatovka. When we neared our 


136 Our Little Cossack Cousin 

village, I sat very proud and erect with my mind 
quite made up that mother would surely mis- 
take me for Dimitri. But as we rode into our 
yard, instead of anything like that happening, 
mother came running out and throwing her 
arms about me exclaimed: u O Vanyuska , 1 
you must be tired out from your long ride. 
Come in quickly and tell me how you ever man- 
aged for so long without your mother? ” 

1 Vanka is the ordinary diminutive for Ivan (John), while 
Vanyuska is another and more affectionate diminutive. — The 
Editor. 


THE END 


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MARGARET MONTFORT 

PEGGY 

RITA 

FERNLEY HOUSE 

THE MERRYWEATHERS 

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THE PAGE COMP ANT 8 


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Standard Edition. An entirely new edition, cloth deco- 
rative, 8vo, with nearly two hundred illustrations, $2.00 
Popular Edition. Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight 
illustrations . . . . . . . $1.00 

A record of personal observation with the Army and 
Navy, from the Battle of Bull Run to the fall of Rich- 
mond. 

THE BOYS OF 1812 ; And Other Naval Heroes. 

By James Russell Soley. 

Cloth decorative, 8vo, illustrated . . . $2.00 

“ The book is full of stirring incidents and adven- 
tures.” — Boston Herald. 

THE SAILOR BOYS OF ’61 

By James Russell Soley. 

Cloth decorative, 8vo, illustrated . . . $2.00 

“ It is written with an enthusiasm that never allows 
the interest to slacken.” — The Call , Newark, N. J. 

BOYS OF FORT SCHUYLER 

By James Otis. 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.25 
“ It is unquestionably one of the best historical Indian 
stories ever written.” — Boston Herald. 

FAMOUS WAR STORIES 

By Charles Carleton Coffin 
Each cloth decorative, l%mo, illustrated, 'per vol., $1.25 

WINNING HIS WAY 

A story of a young soldier in the Civil War. 

MY DAYS AND NIGHTS ON THE BAT- 
TLEFIELD 

A story of the Battle of Bull Run and other battles in 
Kentucky, Tennessee, and on the Mississippi. 

FOLLOWING THE FLAG 

A story of the Army of the Potomac in the Civil War. 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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